


On the other side of the press

by Lonery



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Everybody Lives, Follows the DR3 canon, Hinata Hajime & Kamukura Izuru Share a Body Simultaneously, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Backstory, Major Original Character(s), NDRV3 Ch6 is bullshit, NDRV3 Chapter 5 spoilers, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-07 05:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 71,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13427985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonery/pseuds/Lonery
Summary: Ouma’s pain was excruciating, but he expected that. He accepted its inevitability as soon as he came up with his plan. What he didn’t expect, however, was that he would ever wake up again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a way of overcoming my despair from chapters 5-6 of ndrv3. I guess it's a fic now.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Momota’s shaking voice echoed through the hangar. He was scared, Ouma noticed. Well, not like he can blame him. He was about to become the blackened, after all. Killing would certainly be hard on someone like Momota. However, Ouma knew full well that this wasn’t all there was to it. He didn’t have any proof, he just had this feeling of certainty. Was that what Momota always based his countless “hunches” on? Ouma shook his head a bit, chasing those thoughts away. “There’s no need to bring emotions into this” he reminded himself. Instead, he lifted his eyes on the machine in front of him — the hydraulic press that was about to become his grave.

The sharp pain in Ouma’s back reminded him of how little time he had. He swallowed all of his fear and anxiety and took a few weak steps towards the death machine. The space between two metal halves was even narrower than Ouma had previously thought. He lightly touched the surface of the press with his hand. It was cold. So cold it sent shivers down Ouma’s spine. With an anxious sigh, he climbed inside and immediately felt a rush of claustrophobia. The ram of the press was so close, he could almost feel its chill on his exposed chest. Ouma turned his head to the side and closed his eyes. He tried to concentrate on something – anything but the press, to calm his racing heart even a tiny bit. Momota’s jacket became that something. Ouma stroked the smooth galactical fabric with his fingers. It felt nice. The jacket was soft and still held the warmth from Momota’s body. Still had his smell, too…

Ouma shook his head again. When did he get so attached to this goddamn idiot? All he ever did was getting in the Ouma’s way by stealing Saihara’s attention. Yeah, that’s right. Saihara was Ouma’s beloved, not Momota. Momota was just a gear in Ouma’s plan, no more and no less. A sad smile escaped Ouma’s lips. “That’s… a lie,” he thought to himself. How pathetic could he get? His self-pity was interrupted by a yet another wave of pain. He should really wrap everything up. 

Should he say some last words? A final hint for Saihara to stop the mastermind? Or should he just speak his mind for the last time in his life? Or maybe something to make sure Saihara would never forget him? Something like ‘tell Saihara-chan I’ve always loved him’? Ouma laughed to himself. There’s no way he could do something like that. Perhaps saying nothing would be the best after all. Even though he was about to die, he had to keep up his façade of the evil supreme leader. For DICE’s sake. If they even existed, that is…

“I’m ready, Momota-chan,” Ouma said, quietly. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hide the bitter sadness in his voice.

After a few moments of hesitation, he heard Momota mutter a quiet “right…”, and then the sound of two buttons clicking.

The press turned on with a familiar industrial noise. Ouma clenched the fabric of Momota’s jacket in his hand, preparing for the impact. The press came down in an instant, yet it felt like an eternity to Ouma. He could vividly feel every detail of his agony. The ice-cold surface of the ram touching his bare skin, the unbearable pressure against his chest, and finally, the deafening sound of every single bone in his body collapsing all at once. He could swear that even as he descended into the welcoming abyss of death, he could still feel as his blood and flesh was oozing from underneath his fractured skin.

It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. The pain was the only thing that was left in Ouma’s world. What’s worse, it didn’t even stop. He’s died already, hasn’t he? Was _this_ the so-called ‘Hell’? Was Ouma now supposed to endure it for all eternity? Though… something was off. Ouma couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly, but–

He was breathing.

Sharp, panicked, uneven breaths. Ouma clearly felt them in his chest. How? His lungs should’ve been crushed along with everything else. No, they _were_ crushed. There was no doubt about it. And even if they weren’t, surely there wasn’t enough air under the press to breathe…

Little by little, Ouma’s consciousness slowly came back to him. He could feel his limbs again. They were still a bit numb, but from what he could tell, they were unharmed. He tried opening his eyes, but was unable to. A slight pressure against his eyes and forehead suggested that he was wearing some sort of blindfold. It felt a lot colder and more metal-y than any blindfold he’s ever seen, yet it still managed to feel somewhat familiar. After a minute or two of thinking, Ouma realized what it reminded him of. Iruma’s virtual world helmets. It wasn’t exactly the same, but the similarities were definitely there. He almost began to raise his hands to his head to check if his guess was correct, when he suddenly began to feel something else. Someone else’s presence. 

Someone was definitely in the same room with him. Ouma concentrated on his hearing. It was muffled because of the helmet, but he started to hear voices. There were two of them. One, calm and monotonous was practically silent, while the other was soft with a slight rasp and was apparently trying to annoy the other one while giggling every few seconds. Ouma tried to make out what they were saying, but that soon proved to be futile. The indistinguishable chatter of a softer voice went on for a few minutes, before being interrupted by the other. After that, Ouma heard quick approaching footsteps, and then he could see again. 

Ouma found himself laying in a chair in a dim room with a massive pillar in the center. It was covered top to bottom in glowing sci-fi-esque patterns that were providing some much-needed lighting. A console with an array of monitors was sticking out from the side of the pillar. The monitors were all glowing a calm dark blue, but the angle wouldn’t let Ouma make out what exactly they were showing. 

As Ouma was checking his surroundings, a person walked into his field of view and stopped right in front of him. Ouma hated to rely on something as vague as his intuition, but the man in front of him set off all kinds of alarms in supreme leader’s head, despite not looking all that threatening. He was tall and seemed to be in his early twenties. He was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt with a green tie and a pair of dark-green trousers. He had short dark brown hair with a single strand perking up – a trait that Ouma found endearing in Kiibo and Saihara, now seemed almost eerie. His eyes – one olive and the other bright red – seemed to be piercing right through Ouma, which certainly didn’t help him feel any more at ease.

The man reached out his hand to Ouma. “I’m Hinata Hajime. Nice to meet you. How do you feel?” he said in a complete monotone.

Before Ouma could answer anything, he heard a suppressed laugh from behind his chair, and a second guy came into view before wrapping his hand around the first one’s waist. “Since when does Hinata-kun talk like that? You’re not even trying,” he chuckled.

“Get your hands off me.”

“Why?” the second guy smiled innocently, _“Hinata-kun_ wouldn’t have a problem with this.” With a yet another chuckle, he gave unamused Hinata a quick peck on the cheek before letting go of him.

This second guy seemed to be about the same age as Hinata and was a little taller than him. His sickly pale skin and unnaturally white fluffy hair gave him a mysterious, almost ghostlike look. An oversized white shirt paired with black skinny jeans emphasized his frail slender build. He looked at Ouma with his warm grayish green eyes. “I’m Komaeda Nagito. We’re your senpais, kind of,” he said, reaching out his hand to Ouma. The hand was made of metal.

After hesitating for a brief moment, Ouma took Komaeda’s hand and was immediately pulled out of his chair. The sudden movement made his vision blurry and he almost fell over as soon as he stood up. He felt terrible, he felt like he would throw up and then pass out at any second. Still, he put on the familiar fake smile and made his best effort to stand straight. He was the Ultimate Supreme Leader, he couldn’t let anyone see him weak. Komaeda seemed to be enthusiastically talking about something, but Ouma couldn’t hear him. All he could hear was the annoying ringing noise in his ears. Ouma hated it, but it was something he was used to – he felt this same dizziness every time he lost even a little bit of blood. Naturally, he was also used to pretending to be fine whenever something like this happened. However, he knew from experience that he couldn’t keep his act for long. 

Ouma looked around the room despite his still blurry vision. There seemed to be something resembling a door on the wall behind Komaeda and Hinata. Ouma glanced back at the white-haired guy. Still talking.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Ouma interrupted as he dismissively waved his hand in the air. “This is all very interesting, but right now I’d rather be anywhere else but here.” He carefully made his way to the door. As soon as he reached it, he turned around and pointed at the duo. “You guys are boring! Especially you, Red-eye!” he exclaimed and immediately sneaked behind the door. As he was closing it behind him, even through his ringing ears he could hear Komaeda’s loud raspy laughter.

Ouma checked his surroundings one last time. He was in some empty corridor. Most importantly, he was alone. With a sigh of relief, he collapsed on the floor. After lying down for a bit, the annoying blurriness and ringing began to slowly fade away. The racing heartbeat seemed to have calmed down, too. Ouma took a deep breath and turned on his back to face the tall ceiling. Everything felt wrong. He was supposed to be dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm surprised so many people have read and liked the first chapter. Thank you all~ Writing is very new for me, so I'm quite slow at it, thank you for being patient. I'll try to get better, I promise.

With a heavy sigh, Ouma sat up. The dizziness seemed to be gone now, and his head was once again clear. He leaned his back against the wall and began to think. He died under that press, there was no denying that. Then why was he alive now? Ouma remembered the feeling of a helmet on his head when he woke up. “Was it all… virtual?” he muttered out loud. That would explain a lot, actually. After spending so much time at the Academy, he got used to all of the nonsense that was happening, but everything about that place was fishy from the very beginning. Everyone’s transformations into Ultimates, the flashback lights, and the robot bears who looked more like stuffed animals than robots and seemed to be able to appear from thin air. Ouma could ignore each of these things on its own, but all of them together…

Ouma stood up. He was going to roll with the virtual world theory for now, but he needed to find more info to make sure. He would have to go back to the two guys in the sci-fi room, but doing so now would be awkward. So instead, he went down the corridor, hoping to find something that would either confirm or disprove his assumption. The corridor was rather short with four doors, one of which Ouma came from, and a wall ladder at the very end, which led to a hatch on the ceiling. Ouma almost began to climb it, when he heard familiar voices coming from behind one of the doors. He sneaked closer to it, listening carefully.

“For how long do you plan to avoid her?” – was that… Chabashira’s voice? – “We girls should get along…” – yep, definitely Chabashira.

Ouma bit his thumbnail, as his mind began to put everything together. Was everyone who died in the virtual world brought back into the real one? Maybe no one really died in the first place?

“Actually, aren’t you sort of… avoiding all of us?” Chabashira continued.

“I’m not avoiding you. I just… feel somewhat responsible, you know?” – another voice, the one that Ouma didn’t hear in a long, long time. Akamatsu Kaede. “None of us know exactly how we got put into the killing game,” she continued. “What if I had something to do with it? What if it’s my fault everyone got…” Ouma could hear tears starting to swell up in her voice. This conversation was getting awfully dramatic awfully quickly. A mischievous smile appeared on Ouma’s face. It would be a real shame if someone barged in and ruined the mood, wouldn’t it?

“Guess who just got murdered!” Ouma chanted excitedly, as he swung the door open, making it hit the wall with a loud thud.

He found Akamatsu and Chabashira sitting behind a rather small table in what looked like a dining hall. It was nowhere near as grand as the one at the Academy, this one could comfortably fit only four to five people at once. The room was divided into two halves by a row of counter tops, one half being the dining area and the other being a kitchen. Both girls stared at Ouma with startled expressions.

“Oh. It’s you,” Chabashira said, quickly going from startled to her usual ‘I just saw a male’ face. She wasn’t even trying to hide the annoyance in her voice.

“Ouma-kun…” Akamatsu almost whispered. She looked at Ouma with red watery eyes. She had faint, but still noticeable dark circles under her eyes, probably from a lack of sleep.

“Ehhh, is this how you greet your best friend who you haven’t seen for so long?” Ouma whined. “You’re lucky I love you guys so much, otherwise I would seriously be offended!”

“Did you seriously just called yourself our…” Chabashira said with disgust, but interrupted herself. “I hope your death was painful. It’s what degenerates like you deserve.”

“Oh, don’t worry, it was,” Ouma responded casually. “Wanna know the details?”

“Ugh. No thanks,” she tensed up and swiftly stood up from her chair. “Come on, Kaede, let’s go…” she pulled on Akamatsu’s sleeve, trying to get her to stand up too. However, the pianist only groaned quietly in protest.

“Ohh, I see,” Ouma’s voice softened and his wide grin turned into a sly smirk. “You’re so disgusted by a guy, you’d rather be buddies with a murderer! How cute.”

“Your maleness has nothing to do with this,” Chabashira said quietly. “And you’re a killer too, you know.”

“Moi?” Ouma asked with a bewildered expression. “My memory seems to be a bit fuzzy, so please do remind me, Chabashira-chan! Since when am I considered a killer in this group?”  
“Since you killed Gonta,” she responded without looking in his direction.

Ouma felt his heart drop. He knew it was coming, he did, but actually hearing Gonta’s name still brought up some very unpleasant memories. Memories that kept Ouma up at night. 

“Nishishi,” Ouma snickered, trying to keep his act together. “You seem to be mistaken, Chabashira-chan. Well, I can’t blame you. It’s not like that dumbass tool could explain anything properly.”

Akamatsu suddenly perked up. “Gonta is not a dumb–“

“I am not a killer!” Ouma interrupted, putting on a maniacal smile. “I did not force Gonta to do anything! All he had to do to survive is to say no to my plan! Then the idiot would live, Iruma-chan would eventually kill me, Saihara-chan would expose the cum-for-brain, and everyone else including Gonta would live happily ever after! Doesn’t that sound bloody wonderful?”

Akamatsu opened her mouth to refute, but Ouma continued. “Such a shame that Gonta’s too dumb to get the rules of the game even after three trials. How hard is it to understand that you die if you get caught?” he smiled sadly. Deep down, Ouma has hoped that his plan would fail there. That Gonta would refuse. That Ouma would somehow manage to avoid Iruma until everyone got fed up with the virtual world. That he would live on with Saihara even if it meant that the killing game would continue. “So, it’s Gonta who you should treat as a killer. Not me. I haven’t killed anyone. Yet.”

“You what?” Chabashira turned to Ouma, glaring at him with eyes full of fire. “What do you mean, you haven’t killed anyone _‘yet’?”_

“Exactly what it sounds like. My plan was set in motion way before Gonta murdered Iruma-chan, and it’s still happening even now! After my trial’s finished, everyone will die together by Monokuma’s hands!”

“You son of a–“ Chabashira charged at Ouma and grabbed him by his scarf before pinning him to a wall. “Explain yourself. Now.”

“Nishishi,” Ouma instinctively latched onto her hands. “Everything is rather simple, Chabashira-chan. My death is unsolvable.”

“Your– wha?”

“My death. I planned it. And there is no way anyone can solve this case, not even Saihara-chan! It was all part of my plan!”

“Your plan to do what? Die and take everyone with you?”

“Exactly!” Ouma laughed maniacally. “Humanity’s last survivors dying together, all because of me! Isn’t it exciting?”

Chabashira lowered her head and slowly let Ouma go. He playfully jumped away from her, regaining his distance.

“Though I guess that’s out the window now. Man, what a waste,” Ouma sighed. “Instead of killing everyone for good I’m going to wake everyone up. That’s how it works here, right? Seems like I accidentally helped you guys. You’re welcome.”

Ouma glanced at Akamatsu. She seemed to be completely out of the conversation again, staring blankly into space.

“I guess,” Ouma said in a sinister voice, “you could say that I granted your wish, Akamatsu-chan.”

She perked up, looking Ouma in the eyes.

“You wanted everyone to get out of the killing game, right? Well, my plan will do exactly that. Unintentionally, but still.”

“How dare you?” Chabashira hissed. “How dare you take any credit for saving anyone, you degenerate? You’re just a walking disaster waiting to happen! You’re... the worst,” she muttered through her teeth.

“Ah, thank you for the compliment, Chabashira-chan,” Ouma gave her an innocent smile.

Chabashira turned around and pulled on Akamatsu’s sleeve once again, this time harder. After a moment of hesitation, the pianist slowly stood up. Chabashira took her by the hand and, after giving Ouma one last glare, exited the room.

The door closed, leaving Ouma alone in the dining hall. With a heavy sigh, he sat down on the floor and smiled sadly. Once again, he made everyone around hate him. He was used to it, to the point where he actually preferred hate over ‘normal’ relationships. Hate was predictable and kept people at bay. “It’s simpler this way,” he muttered, as if trying to convince himself. He looked up at the ceiling and let out a quiet tired laugh. “Simpler, huh? How boring.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this was supposed to be a self-indulgent oumota fic, I don't know what happened.

Ouma slowly opened his eyes. He hasn’t even noticed when he fell asleep on a dining hall floor. He sat up, shivering a bit from the coldness of the ceramic tiles. He wasn’t sure how much time has passed, or what time of day it even was, since none of the rooms seemed to have any windows. How much time has he spent sitting in a chair, plugged into a virtual world? Two weeks, a month? He has lost count of the days spent at the Academy. He hasn’t noticed it until now, but all of his muscles felt stiff and begged for a good stretch, so it must’ve been a while. He hoped he could get some fresh air soon.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Ouma jumped to his feet, put on his usual smile and leaned on the wall, trying to act natural. The door opened, and a familiar tall girl in a gothic dress walked in, carrying a bucket of water and a mop. Tojo Kirumi. Ouma’s smile changed from convincing to a little forced. Tojo was one of the few people he didn’t mind not seeing ever again. Yet, there she was, giving him a side glare as she began to mop the kitchen floor.

“Hi mom,” Ouma greeted her cheerfully, “long time no see.”

“Please don’t call me that,” she responded, reserved as ever.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” Ouma whined, looking at the Ultimate Maid with watery eyes.

“Are you asking for my personal opinion?”

“Yep!”

“Then no,” Tojo answered abruptly, before turning away from Ouma and focusing on her work.

“That’s fair,” Ouma shrugged.

Ouma observed Tojo for a bit, following her every movement with his eyes. Something about this whole situation didn’t seem right.

“Weren’t you eager to get out? Why are you still here?”

Tojo flinched. Her mop slowed down, just for a moment, but returned to its usual speed.

“My people don’t have a need for me anymore,” she kept her cool, but Ouma could tell that it was hard for her to do so. “As such, I continue to serve our class.”

“Oooh, I see. So Hoshi-chan’s death was a waste, huh?”

No reply. Ouma was being ignored. How boring.

Ouma sighed. He was hoping he would at least have some fun provoking the Ultimate Maid, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Upset, Ouma walked to the door.

“Please wait a second,” Tojo called out. She put away her mop and rushed out of the room, only to come back a minute later with a neatly folded towel in hand.

“The room across the one where you first woke up is a bathroom. I highly recommend you take a shower, your hair is a mess,” she handed Ouma the towel.

“Thanks mom,” Ouma grinned. “I knew you still loved me”

“It is my duty to serve everyone,” she responded with an annoyed expression. An expression Ouma hasn’t seen in so long. He felt somewhat satisfied, but he knew he could do better. Smiling to himself, he headed down the corridor, looking for the correct door. Perhaps he missed Tojo more than he realized. He paused, catching himself on that thought. She was a killer, he thought. She tried to sacrifice everyone’s lives to escape. He must not forget that.

Ouma stood in front of a bathroom mirror, staring at his hair with disgust on his face. Saying it was ‘a mess’ was a massive understatement. The roots were greasy, the individual hairs stuck together into chunky strands that stuck up in all kinds of directions, except for the one that they were supposed to. The rich purple ends faded and began to split, and all hair in general seemed quite a bit longer than what Ouma thought it’d be. He shook his head and began to untie his scarf. That was when he noticed something strange in the mirror. The black design on Ouma’s right sleeve – the emblem of his old high school – it was gone. He turned around a couple of times, checking and rechecking every inch of his uniform, but the emblem was nowhere to be found, not even a trace. Ouma bit on his nails, trying to wrap his head around the disappearance. He was confident he had the emblem on his sleeve before he got involved in the killing game, he looked at it every time when he got ready for the DICE meetings, he…

The quiet snap of a nail being bit off spread through the silent bathroom, as Ouma was hit with a realization. The DICE uniform was for DICE’s outings only, and Ouma designed it with that in mind. There was no reason for him to put his high school emblem on it. In fact, he didn’t have any memory of sewing it on, yet he could clearly remember seeing it in a mirror every day. Where did it come from? Was it there from the beginning and he just forgot? Was it even there in the first place? Some of Ouma’s memories had to be fake, and he wasn’t sure which ones.

Ouma turned on the shower and sat down in the bathtub, letting the water wash off all the dirt and the unnecessary thoughts. He was alive. And everyone else, too, was alive. That was the most important. Nothing else mattered. Neither the emblem nor the killing game itself, with all of its deaths and despair. Even if Ouma’s plan were to fail, it wouldn’t matter either. All it would do is delay Saihara’s and the others’ return, so a part of Ouma hoped that the plan would fail. He missed his beloved Saihara. Even though they left off on a pretty unpleasant note…

Ouma’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“I’ll leave some spare clothes in the corridor,” Tojo said from behind the door. “Wear them until I wash yours.”

“ ’Kay, thanks mom,” Ouma responded, smiling to himself. He did miss Tojo, even though he didn’t want to admit it.

Ouma finished his shower and opened a crack in a door. On the corridor floor there was a neatly folded stack of clothes – a striped black suit, a white shirt, a black tie with some kind of an animal skull design on it and a pair of beige shoes. It wasn’t particularly Ouma’s style, but it was nice to finally wear something other than the DICE uniform. Besides, the new clothes fit Ouma almost perfectly, which was a nice surprise for someone as short as him. The outfit was certainly well-kept, but it was obvious from slightly worn-out seams and a couple of well-masked stains that it wasn’t new. Ouma wondered who it belonged to.

Ouma stepped into the corridor, thinking of what he should do next. He had quite a lot of questions regarding the whole situation he was in. Hinata and Komaeda might’ve had some answers, but Ouma wasn’t sure if the two were trustworthy. He recalled the cold stare of a single red eye and it alone send shivers down Supreme Leader’s spine. Then again, even if they were up to no good, Ouma needed to see how wary of them he should be, at the very least. He peered at the dull gray door in front of him. Ouma bit on his nail again. He didn’t want to go there. Something about the duo creeped him out, and worst of all, he couldn’t understand why. There was no logical reason to be afraid of them, Ouma was pretty sure that it was thanks to them that everyone was alive, and they seemed to have the best intentions. However, there was always a possibility that they were somehow connected to the mastermind…

Ouma stopped, only now realizing that he was pacing back and forth in front of the door. He shook his head. He was just wasting time. He put on a determined face, turned the doorknob and walked in. Right away, he began to notice things he couldn’t see yesterday. First, there were numerous chairs along the perimeter of the room. Most of them were empty, but he could see Saihara sitting in one at the very back. Most of his face was covered by a huge virtual reality helmet. Second, all monitors showed camera feeds from the Academy. Ouma could immediately recognize the dining hall, the library, the outside of the dorms, and… the hangar. Saihara, Harukawa, Kiibo, Shirogane and Yumeno were standing in front of the hydraulic press with electrohammers in hands. The hydraulic press with liters of blood oozing from it. Ouma’s blood. Ouma felt sick. He averted his eyes, trying his hardest to keep a straight face. He wanted to throw up, but at least seeing all that instantly proved his theory correct.

Trying to focus on anything else but the camera feeds, Ouma saw Hinata and Komaeda resting on a single futon next to the door’s wall. Hinata was leaning against the wall and was reading something on his phone with a dull expression. Komaeda was lying next to him with his head in the brunette’s lap. His eyes were closed, but it didn’t seem like he was sleeping. He was simply relaxing with a blissful smile on his face, as Hinata was lazily stroking his fluffy white hair with his free hand. Hinata lifted his eyes from his phone, as he finally noticed Ouma and him a small smile. Something about Hinata seemed… different. He didn’t have the same cold-blooded stare, he acted a lot more casual than he was before, even the air around him felt lighter. Was Ouma only imagining the sinister vibes he was getting? He recalled what Komaeda has said that night: ’Since when does Hinata-kun talk like that? You’re not even trying.’ Was the person from yesterday not the same person in front of him now?

“Ah, Ouma-kun!” Komaeda called out, as he sat up. “Sorry about overwhelming you yesterday. It’s just, I think that you have a great talent and I was excited to finally meet you,” his calm smile widened and he reached out to Ouma to grab his hand. “I’m so lucky to have such wonderful kohais! All brimming with so much hope, shining brightly in the face of despair… Especially you, Ouma-kun.”

“Komaeda,” Hinata called.

“If you’ll ever need my help, don’t be afraid to ask!” the white-haired guy continued, clutching Ouma’s hand harder. “I’ll do anything to help your hope burn even brighter!”

“Komaeda!” Hinata repeated with more annoyance in his voice. He grabbed Komaeda by his shoulder, making him come to his senses. He released Ouma’s hand, smiling apologetically.

“You keep calling yourself my senpai,” Ouma said, “but I’ve never even seen you before. Have we gone to the same school or something?”

Hinata sighed like he expected this question and got tired of hearing it. “Do you remember anything about Hope’s Peak Academy?”

“That one super-fancy school? I’ve heard of it. What does it have to do with anything?”

Hinata sat back at the futon, scooting closer to the side. He patted the space next to him, inviting Ouma to take a seat. Hesitating, Ouma took a step forward.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a small chapter. Also sorry for the exposition dump. >->
> 
> Dialogues are hard.

“…and that was the end of despair. At least for a while,” Hinata said. “We took the blame for the last killing game and returned to Jabberwock Island, where we lived for the past year and a half,” he glanced at Ouma, who was sitting next to him, rocking back and forward. “Do you still follow?”

“Yep!” Ouma grinned. “Buuuut, while this is great and all, I’m not really interested in your backstory,” that was a lie. Ouma was glad he got to hear all this, even though he wasn’t sure if any of Hinata’s story was true. It certainly clashed with Ouma’s memories from flashback lights. If those were false, then perhaps a certain something the mastermind showed him was false too…

“What does all this have to do with me?”

“Well, after the despair has ended, Hope’s Peak got rebuilt with Naegi-kun as the principal. You were scouted to be in its very first class.”

“Huh?” Ouma stopped rocking. “But I never went to Hope’s Peak. I went to Imperial Capital’s.”

“You didn’t, actually. I don’t know all the details, but you didn’t go to any high school before Hope’s Peak. Most of your classmates didn’t.”

“So, my memories of Imperial Capital’s are…”

“Fake. Pretty much all of your memories from the last three years must be fake since you couldn’t remember anything about the Tragedy.”

“Hmm, I see, I see,” Ouma got up, looking carefree as ever. Three years of memories, just gone? There was no way Ouma could just believe whatever the Red-eye was saying. Or rather, he didn’t want to believe it. But then, the whole thing seemed way too elaborate to be a complete lie. And it would be weird for someone to make themselves more suspicious by saying they were a part of the group that tried to end the world. But what if it was all part of some convoluted plan? What if…

“You can look it up if you don’t trust me,” Hinata said, handing Ouma a phone.

Ouma stared at the black rectangle in disbelief. It was… too easy. Everything was way too easy. Why would someone just give him the information he wanted? It had to be a trap. It just had to be. Still, he accepted the phone and began to type search after search. ‘The Tragedy’, ‘Hope’s Peak’, ‘Remnants of Despair’, ‘Future Foundation’… Everything seemed to be consistent with what Hinata has told him. Ouma couldn’t find anything useful regarding Jabberwock Island, but he figured any reports about it wouldn’t be made public. Perhaps he could trust them after all, at least a little bit…

He swiped a yet another page of news articles, before seeing something that made his mind freeze. ‘Rebuilt Hope’s Peak’s 1st class reported dead.’ Reluctant, he opened the full article.

“… The 16 students of Hope’s Peak were found dead in the old school building. The cause of death is believed to be a mass suicide.

“The same students were recently accused of belonging to the Ultimate Despair, also known as the Remnants of Despair, the terrorist organization founded by Enoshima Junko …

“… Their bodies were found next to Enoshima’s grave …”

“What… is this?..” Ouma muttered under his breath. The article even included a list of all their names and talents, Ouma included. He noticed a couple of similar articles from other sources, too. There was no way it could’ve been faked, right?.. 

“This?” Hinata asked, looking over Ouma’s shoulder and making him jump a bit. How did he come so close to the Supreme Leader without him noticing? “I was about to get to that. You only went to Hope’s Peak for a few months. Then all of you went missing, along with your families and loved ones. Soon after that, there were multiple reports of terrorist attacks with you as the culprits. So, people assumed you all were the Ultimate Despair.”

“Were we actually…”

“You were framed by the mastermind. At least, that’s what I believe. The attacks did happen, but there was no solid proof of you actually being the culprits. All of the testimonies, photos, and videos could’ve been easily faked. The mastermind was the Ultimate Cosplayer, after all.”

“So she was…” Ouma muttered to himself, throwing a glare in the direction of Shirogane, who was lying peacefully in her seat. “But if there was no solid proof, how could they even accuse us?”

“Everyone is terrified of repeating the Tragedy,” Komaeda spoke up for the first time in a while. “As soon as someone is even slightly suspected of being the despair, their life might as well be over. People will lynch them.”

“Fine, but what about all this ‘found dead’ stuff? Those were someone else’s bodies that were made to look like us, right? Did no one bother to check if those were our actual corpses?”

“They might’ve checked but decided to sweep everything under the rug since you were missing anyway. Just to calm the masses, you know?” Komaeda rested his head on Hinata’s shoulder. “We’re just as in the dark about the specifics of the case as you are, Ouma-kun. We’re just sharing theories at this point.”

Ouma clenched the phone in his hands in frustration. If everything he was just told was true, it would mean that he had nowhere to go. And even if he did, being seen by anyone would put in danger not only him but his classmates as well… That would explain why everyone was sticking around, even though they were desperate to get out before. What was going to happen to them? Hinata and Komaeda were obviously waiting for everyone to wake up, but then what? They wouldn’t turn them in, right? Perhaps Ouma should prepare just in case…

“When you said our loved ones were missing… you didn’t mean they were dead, right?”

“What I said is what I meant,” Hinata responded. “No one can find or contact them.”

Good. Ouma forced himself to smile. Missing is not dead. They had to be alive. Of course no one would be able to find his secret evil organization. It is secret, after all. Everything was fine. They would be fine on their own, Ouma was a horrible leader anyway. They’re probably better off without him.

He felt his eyes starting to tear up, so he shook his head, smiled wider and turned to Hinata and Komaeda. “Kay, it was fun talking to you guys. I appreciate it, I really really do,” he said in his usual overly-cheery tone, that almost made everything he said sound sarcastic. “Maybe you’re not as boring as I first thought. Just kidding,” he pointed finger guns at the duo, as he made his way to the door. He wasn’t sure himself what was the meaning behind his mess of a farewell, but he just wanted to leave the room as soon as possible.

He closed the door behind him and covered his face with his hands. Just when he thought he had escaped the despair, he was thrown into it once again. He was lost.

A part of him wished he had stayed under that press.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not expect to write this chapter as fast as I did >-> I want to say that my speed is improving, but I don't want to jinx it <-<

A round gray metal hatch on the ceiling at the end of the hallway. That’s what Ouma was staring at for what seemed like an eternity, as he tried to ignore everyone’s voices coming from behind the dining hall door. He just wanted to be alone for a while. Preferably forever. A narrow line of light stretched across the edge of the hatch, letting in rays of sunlight along with some fresh cold air. The hatch led to the outside, there was no doubt about it. It wouldn’t open, right? Surely not, if it’s so dangerous for everyone to be seen. Unless Hinata and Komaeda didn’t care about everyone being in danger. Or unless they were planning on ratting everyone out anyway. Who knows what their motives were. Still, Ouma stepped on the wall ladder and reached out to push the hatch. It opened, letting in a gust of humid wind. Ouma hesitated for a moment. He shouldn’t come out, right? But the fresh air and the prospect of finding some remote street corner to get away from everyone and everything for a while was way too enticing.

Ouma pulled himself up, climbing out outside. He was met with a chilly sprinkling rain, puddles in the deep cracks in the sidewalks, and a depressing sight of a misty destroyed city. Here and there lied rusty monokuma parts, it seemed like they were there for a long time. Some of the buildings even began to get covered in moss and grass. There was no living soul in sight. Well, that explained the opened hatch.

Ouma walked forward, going down an empty road. The buildings and sidewalks seemed to have been destroyed with explosives – the damage looked random and chaotic and made large pits in the ground that were now filled with rainwater. A few large buildings fell over, creating mountains of debris that blocked multiple lanes at once. Something terrible must’ve happened here. Yet, seeing this destruction beginning to give in to nature was almost comforting.

After wandering around the city ruins for a while, Ouma saw two crouching figures in the distance. Gonta and Angie, poking around in the grass, probably looking for bugs. Luckily, they were too preoccupied to notice Ouma. He averted his eyes and silently sneaked into the nearest alleyway. He wasn’t ready to face Gonta. Not yet.

The alleyway turned out to be a dead end, blocked by a yet another mountain of cement and rubble. Going back would mean risking Gonta seeing the Supreme Leader, so that wasn’t an option. The rain started to get harder, too. Ouma looked around. The buildings were relatively intact. The doors and windows were broken and a few walls collapsed under the debris, sure, but the roofs seemed fine and the structure itself probably wouldn’t collapse anytime soon. Ouma climbed through the window of one of the buildings – some convenience store with busted lights and empty shelves. He did so just in time, as the rain went from sprinkling to pouring in a matter of seconds. The air felt chilly. Ouma shivered and pulled his jacket up to his face.

He sat down on the floor behind one of the shelves, listening to the rain. The place certainly brought back some memories. Small stores like that always had close to zero security, so it was a perfect playground for DICE to pull their pranks. It was a mean thing to do to already underpaid workers, but as long as it made DICE happy, Ouma didn’t care. Besides, he needed a good distraction to steal some food, just so their little family had something to eat that day. Ouma smiled sadly. He would never see them again, huh? He couldn’t even remember what the last time he saw them was like. Everything from just before the killing game was in a blur. A couple of tears rolled down his cheeks, and he wiped them with his sleeve. A thought came to his mind. An impulse. He pulled down his sleeve and stared at his wrist. At the blue veins, clearly visible through his pale skin. It… wouldn’t matter now, would it? He already died once. He’s still dead to the rest of the world. Dead to DICE. His classmates don’t want him alive either. He wasn’t needed. It would only be for the better, right?

Shaking, he slowly reached into his pocket, hoping to find his trusty knife, but it was empty. Of course. He left the knife in his DICE uniform. He couldn’t do a single damn thing right. He pulled his legs to his chest, curling into a ball and hiding his head in his arms. He was a failure. Failure, failure, fail-

“Ouma-kun!” an already familiar soft voice called out from the entrance of the store. Ouma perked up, holding his breath. He shouldn’t be visible from the entrance. Maybe if he just stays quiet he’ll go away…

“There you are,” Komaeda smiled, looking over the shelf. He was now wearing a grayish-green coat with a dark red square pattern on the shoulders and the hood. He shook an umbrella he was holding from excess water and sat down next to the Supreme Leader.

“How did you find me?”

“Just my luck,” Komaeda laughed. “This was the first place I’ve checked.”

Weirdo. Ouma turned his head, avoiding making eye contact. Why was he here? No one asked him to come. Why would someone in their right mind come to Ouma out of their own will?

“Here,” Komaeda took off his coat and put it on Ouma’s shoulders, making him flinch from sudden contact. “It’s cold today.”

Ouma looked at the other in disbelief. Komaeda was just smiling calmly, without any hint of malice or an ulterior motive. Why was he… so nice to him? It didn’t make any sense. Everyone was supposed to hate him. The coat felt nice though. But not as nice as Momota’s. Ouma felt his cheeks heat up as he remembered the Ultimate Astronaut. Dammit. When did the space idiot become something other than an annoying nuisance? Ouma couldn’t even understand himself at this point.

“I already had a jacket, you know,” Ouma mumbled, averting his eyes again.

“Yeah, but you’re still weak from, uh, dying. Hinata-kun was worried you’d get sick, and I can’t let Hinata-kun worry,” Komaeda laughed nervously, playing with a strand of white fluffy hair.

“Yeah, I’m sure he cares a lot,” Ouma said sarcastically.

“He does!” Komaeda insisted. “He just doesn’t know how to show it, you know? Probably Kamukura-kun’s influence…”

“’Kamukura-kun?’ The Ultimate Hope guy Hinata-chan was turned into?”

“Yeah. Hinata-kun doesn’t really like to talk about it with others, but Kamukura-kun is still inside his brain. Hinata-kun tells everyone that both of their personalities merged into one, but that’s not actually the case. They did merge a little bit, so Hinata-kun is a bit more… cold and formal, I guess. When compared to what used to be. But for the most part, he’s still the same, except he and Kamukura-kun kind of… switch the control over his body with each other sometimes. Kamukura-kun prefers to stay inside though, so he only comes out when necessary. That’s probably why everyone else hasn’t noticed…”

“So, you’re just blabbing about his secret to a guy you met less than a day ago? What a great boyfriend you are.”

“I feel like I can trust you, is all,” he didn’t seem to be bothered by Ouma’s last remark. So they _were_ dating. “I guess you remind me of myself a little bit. Or, rather, of what I used to be like.”

“You’re going to trust a liar? Did you self-project on me so hard you missed my whole schtick?”

Komaeda laughed. “I didn’t, trust me. But everyone knows you’re a liar. So even if you told someone Hinata-kun’s secret, they wouldn’t believe you.”

Ouma smirked. The guy had some sass. “Can’t argue with that.”

The room fell into silence. Only the rain kept drumming on the metal roof of the store.

“Hey,” Komaeda said, “Do you have anyone besides DICE? Friends, family? Anyone who wasn’t mentioned in your motive video?”

Ouma clicked his tongue in irritation. “Rub it in, why don’t you.”

“I was just making sure. Sorry.”

Silence again.

“We…” Komaeda paused, “can give you a shelter. We can take you with us to Jabberwock Island. All of you. You’d be safe there. The island has always been too big for the sixteen of us anyway,” he was met with Ouma’s suspicious glare. “We won’t force you, of course!” he raised his hands in a defensive manner. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. We’ll take you wherever you tell us to and then leave you alone. And if you do come with us, you can change your mind at any time.”

Ouma bit his nail. The offer seemed… enticing. And suspiciously ideal. There had to be some sort of catch. There was no way it was that simple.

“You don’t have to answer now. You have time until everyone wakes up and fully recovers.”

Ouma silently nodded. This could be his only chance on an even slightly good life. Or it could be a deadly trap. He had to think it over carefully as to not screw it up with a half-assed lie. Komaeda nodded in return.

Komaeda glanced at one of the windows. “Seems to be raining less now. Do you want to go back?”

Ouma shook his head. “I wanted to be alone for a while. That’s why I went out in the first place,” normally he’d come up with some excuse, but for some reason when he was with Komaeda, he didn’t even feel like lying. It felt weird and unnatural. Of all people to be honest to, he chose the most suspicious one. Idiot.

“Okay, I’ll head out by myself then. I’ll leave the umbrella with you, in case you decide to wander around some more,” he gave the Supreme Leader a gentle smile and stood up. “Momota-kun should be coming back tonight. Will you drop by to welcome him? I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

Ouma lowered his eyes. “And I’m sure he won’t.”

Komaeda’s smile dropped. “If you say so,” he began to turn around to leave but stopped himself. “Ouma-kun. One last thing. Stop pushing yourself so hard.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“You’re trying with all of your might to help everyone, and at the same time, you’re not letting anyone get too close to you. And you’re still doing it now, even though you’re not in the killing game anymore. This mindset of yours… It _will_ break you,” he looked at Ouma with an unseen before certainty. As if he went through the same thing himself. “I’m not telling you to get all carefree and friendly with all of your classmates, but you should at least stop avoiding those who care about you and want to understand you. And stop worrying about every little thing so much. I know my word doesn’t mean much to you, but I swear that Hinata-kun and I are on your side. You’ve been through enough. Let us take care of things for a bit.”

He gave Ouma one last glance and headed to the exit, leaving the Supreme Leader alone in an empty store.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank you guys for all of your feedback. Your support has been incredible so far, reading all of your comments is always a highlight of my day. I probably wouldn't update this thing nearly as frequently if it wasn't for you guys. I hope you'll stay with me on this ride til the end and enjoy it all the way through <3

With a tired sigh, Hinata threw a damp towel into a pile of wet clothes. “Drying your hair is a nightmare,” he said as he looked at Komaeda who was sitting in front of him with his back turned. His hair, usually so fluffy it seemed to be floating, was now drooping down, still wet despite Hinata’s best efforts.

“Sorry,” Komaeda laughed. He leaned backward, falling into Hinata’s lap. “I bet Kamukura-kun could handle it no problem,” he looked Hinata in the eyes with a sly smile.

“I am not making him come out to dry your hair. He keeps nagging me for hours every time I wake him up.”

“I was kidding,” Komaeda raised his hand and gently stroked Hinata’s cheek. “I wouldn’t want you to go away anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, you charmer,” Hinata jokingly ruffled the other’s hair. “But really though, when I asked you to make sure Ouma would be okay, I didn’t mean giving him all of your stuff and then returning all wet.”

“He seemed cold,” Komaeda objected. “And you told me yourself that he’s supposed to be really frail right now.”

“I know, but,” Hinata rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration, “you’re frail in general, and you know that. Please be more careful. I don’t want you to get worse again...”

“Getting caught in the rain isn’t going to make my brain continue to rot.”

“As if that was your only problem…”

Komaeda smiled. “As long as Hinata-kun is taking care of me, I don’t mind.”

“Then I’ll just make Tsumiki look after you whenever you get sick.”

“Whaaat? Not fair, Hinata-kun!”

“If that’s what it takes for you to finally care about yourself, I’ll do it.”

“Fine, fine," Komaeda sighed. "I’ll be more careful. Just don’t make it anyone else’s problem,” Komaeda rolled to his side, trying to get into a more comfortable position.

A calm pleasant silence filled the room. Rare drops of water still drummed outside, barely noticeable through the thick roof and a layer of soil on top of it. Hinata closed his eyes, listening to the rain and Komaeda’s relaxed breathing. He sighed, letting his mind off his concerns and worries. Some of them, at least.

“So… how is Ouma?”

Komaeda raised his hand to his chin, thinking. “I think he’s trying to avoid everyone, even more so than he did in the killing game. Pretty sure he was crying right before I found him, too. He’s really not taking this well.”

“Well, it’s to be expected, I guess,” Hinata sighed heavily. “It’s been hard on everyone. Akamatsu is still depressed, and it’s been weeks.”

“It’s especially hard on her, though.”

“Yes, of course…”

Silence again.

“I… don’t think Ouma-kun will come back tonight,” Komaeda said.

“You mean to welcome Momota?”

“No, I mean he’s not coming back at all. I think he’s going to sleep in a random building in the city to not get in the way of his classmates. That’s kind of why I gave him my coat. So he’d be at least a little bit warmer tonight.”

“Did he tell you that?”

Komaeda shook his head. “No, but that’s what I would do if I didn’t have a separate room back in our killing game. I wouldn’t think that I was worthy enough to sleep with everyone else.”

“You two aren’t _that_ similar, you know.”

“His reasons might not be the same, but it’s just the feeling I got from him. Besides, I think he blames himself for something.”

“Blames himself?”

“Yeah. You know how he was obsessed with solving the killing game and saving everyone? Maybe he feels guilty he couldn’t understand that everything was virtual.”

“But… There was no way for him to know that.”

“Guilt isn’t always rational, Hinata-kun. Most of the time it’s not.”

“Right, sorry,” he averted his eyes. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“I don’t know, honestly,” Komaeda sat up, staring into nothing. “I tried my best to give him hope, but I’m not nearly as good at it as you and Naegi-kun are. And I’ve never seen him so full of despair. I’m... kind of worried.”

“Should I go talk to him?”

Komaeda shook his head. “He doesn’t trust us,” he said as he stood up and walked to the monitors, nervously tapping his fingers on the edge his metal forearm. “We need someone he’s close to…” he murmured to himself. The cameras showed the trial grounds. A huge red exisal just walked in, confusing everyone in the room.

"...Momota-kun might be our best option," Komaeda said thoughtfully.

“Momota?”

Komaeda nodded. “Ouma-kun may not like him much, but he is the closest one to him. He’s the only one who willingly went along with Ouma-kun’s plan and the only one who Ouma-kun ever told his true feelings on the killing game. He was desperate because he was dying, sure, but it still happened. If he opened up to him once, he might do it again. Besides, Momota-kun’s talent is incredible for inspiring hope in general, and…” 

Hinata walked up to Komaeda and gently hugged him from behind. “Okay, I see your point. But it’s for Momota to decide, not us,” he landed a soft kiss on Komaeda’s temple.

“Ah, right. Of course,” Komaeda said, turning around and hugging Hinata back.

A phone vibrated inside Hinata’s pocket. Still holding Komaeda’s waist with one hand, he pulled it out and looked at the bright blue screen.

“What is it?” Komaeda asked, turning his head trying to get a glimpse.

“It’s from Mioda,” Hinata said, taking a step to the side to make it easier for Komaeda to see. A photo appeared on the screen. About one-third of the frame was covered by a huge colorful blur that kind of resembled Mioda’s face, while the rest showed their classmates in the hotel restaurant. Souda was sitting on one of the tables, fiercely grasping some sort of a remote control. A pile of sparkling mechanical parts lied on the floor next to him. Presumably, it used to be a robot of some sorts, that was just destroyed by the Four Dark Devas of Destruction, who stared at it with feral, yet somewhat satisfied expressions. Tanaka and Sonia with overjoyed faces posed dramatically in the background, celebrating their hamster children’s victory. Everyone else stood in a semi-circle around the commotion with varying degrees of enthusiasm. 

Underneath the photo, there was a text message: “Heyyy you lovebirds!!!! >< How’s your mission thing going? Getting frisky you frisks?? We had a monster battle tournament! :DD There were only two teams tho, so more of a duel than a tournament >> Got so heated we almost burned down our future!! Get it? Cus the hotel is future?? So anyway, when are you two coming back?? You’re missing out ;; Everyone else misses you too ;;;;; P.s. tell Nagito-chan that the only reason Kazuichi-chan lost was that he wasn’t here to cheer for him. He needs your luck bro!! ><”

Both Hinata and Komaeda couldn’t help but smile. Seeing their home has warmed their hearts and souls. They’ve been gone for only a few weeks, but they missed their warm tropics. They missed the hotel Mirai where they got so many good memories. They missed their friends who were just like a family to them. They couldn’t wait to go back.

Hinata turned on his phone camera and snapped a picture of himself and Komaeda. “This idiot gave away his coat and umbrella to one of the new kids and then came back all wet and cold,” he texted and pressed send before Komaeda could object.

“Hinata-kuuun!” Komaeda whined as he watched the small ‘read’ text appear under Hinata’s message. “Are you seriously still mad about that?”

“Not mad. Just disappointed,” Hinata said jokingly as he looked at Komaeda with a smug grin on his face.

“Hinata-kuuuuun!” Komaeda clung to the brunette’s arm, accidentally bumping into him a little too hard and falling together with him back on their futon. Both laughed, pulling each other into a yet another embrace.

The phone buzzed again. “Tell the dumbass that he better stop pulling shit like that all the goddamn time or I’ll personally kick his ass. –Kuzuryu”

Hinata smiled and put away his phone. “Hey, Komaeda.”

“Yeah?”

“Kuzuryu says he cares about you.”

Komaeda giggled softly. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very important chapter that fleshed out Hinata's and Komaeda's relationship with each other, with Ouma and with their classmates. Yep. Totally wasn't an excuse to add some komahina fluff. Definitely. >->


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a bit of a delay, I was sick. Still am. I hope the chapter is readable because I honestly can't tell.

“…And I’m saying that he’s a threat to everyone!” Chabashira slammed her hand on the table. She looked over all of her classmates who gathered up in the dining hall. Everyone averted their eyes, not knowing what to say. Everyone but Shinguji, who sat calmly across from Chabashira.

“You’re overreacting, Chabashira-san,” Hoshi said.

“How am I overreacting? He’s a _murderer!”_

“So am I, you know.”

Chabashira hissed, staring at Hoshi angrily. “Of course you wouldn’t see anything wrong with this, you degenerate! You think that this only concerns girls and you don’t have to do anything, do you?!”

“E-Everyone, please!” Gonta raised his voice. “Friends should not fight!”

“This monster should not be considered our friend!”

The door to the dining hall opened, and Hinata walked in, with Komaeda following shortly behind. “What’s going on here?” the brunette asked.

“Tenko refuses to eat in the same room as Korekiyo,” Angie explained in her usual chipper tone.

“This is not just about eating! Hinata-san, this male is a threat to all girls! Please do something about him.”

“He hasn’t done anything dangerous since he left the virtual world, as far as I can tell,” Hinata said.

“Of course he hasn’t!” Chabashira slammed the table again. “It’s been a week at most! He’s still dangerous!”

“What do you even want me to…”

“He had a _knife!”_

“To cut food,” Shinguji added.

Hinata rubbed the bridge on his nose. “Chabashira, I…”

“If anyone here deserves to be cuffed up and put under surveillance, it’s this creep!”

Akamatsu, who didn’t even seem like she was paying attention to the conversation before, pulled her knees to her chest and lowered her head, trying to hide her face.

“Chabashira!” Hinata grabbed the Aikido Master’s shoulder. “Please calm down.”

“Don’t touch me, you degenerate…” she slapped his hand, making him let go of her. She took a deep breath and looked Hinata in the eyes, letting him speak.

“Even if you ignore the false accusations made by the mastermind, most of the people in this room would still be considered criminals, me and Komaeda included. Locking only Shinguji up would be unfair and hypocritical. To avoid that, we’re not judging you on your lives before this whole mess, or on what you did in the killing game. We want this to be a chance for you all to start everything anew.”

“But he’s a serial killer.”

“And if he does something to harm any of you, I’ll take action.”

“It’d be too late for that…” Chabashira murmured. “Besides! If it’s so hypocritical to lock him up for being a serial killer, why do you not see anything wrong with locking up that poor girl?”

“This is different. She’s a Remnant of Despair and the Mastermind’s accomplice,” Hinata’s voice turned harsher.

“So what? She would feel right at home with you two!”

“You have no idea what Remnants of Despair are capable of. They have no reason or restraint. All they care is feeling despair and making others feel it too. They have no attachment to other Remnants or their own lives. This is as much for her own protection as it is for everyone else’s.”

“Now you’re trying to make yourself seem noble by saying that this is for her own good? Get off your high horse!”

_“Besides,_ she knows more about that virtual world than anyone else, even me. She could kill everyone who’s still inside, given the opportunity to.”

“She… what?” Chabashira’s voice weakened.

“Chabashira-san, do I need to remind you that a certain magician is still inside?”

“Fine… I get it. I get it, okay?” Chabashira sat down.

“Are you done yapping ‘bout pointless shit?” Iruma said. “What I wanna know is where the fuck did the gremlin shota go. We all know he’s here somewhere, and I wanted to slap the bastard!”

“He’ll come back… eventually,” Komaeda said as he twisted a strand of white hair in his fingers.

* * *

“Shit…” Ouma whispered to himself, throwing aside yet another empty tin can. There was no telling what exactly happened in this city, but all of the shops, stores, and even gas stations were completely looted. There were no signs of food anywhere, and Ouma was starving.

There was always the option of going back… but Ouma really didn’t want to. He couldn’t explain why. Emotions were confusing and irrational, that’s why the Supreme Leader tried to not let them affect his actions. But once he did so by setting his foot outside, it was hard to stop.

Ouma sat down on the floor, biting his nails. His mind was racing, trying to pinpoint the best course of action. Or, rather, the course of action that didn’t go against his confusing emotional mindset at the moment.

Not counting Momota, there were five people in the killing game. To reach its two-people limit, two more murders had to happen. Murders happened every three or so days, so unless another double one occurred, the game would be over in… six days.

Ouma nervously tapped his fingers on the floor. Six days. Almost a week. Then everyone could go to Jabberwock Island. That should be the best course of action, right? Ouma wanted to trust Komaeda, he really did, but everything about the offer seemed suspicious. Ouma shook his head. It’s not like he had a better option. Besides, if it did turn out to be a trap, he could always… His train of thought paused for a moment. Ouma anxiously rubbed his wrist.

Six days. He repeated these two words to himself, trying to get his mind back on track. Could he wait for six days without food? He could collect rainwater into the empty cans that were all over the place, so dehydration wouldn’t be a problem. If he preserved his energy, he would probably hold out for a week. Wouldn’t be the first time.

He didn’t know what he would do after that. He didn’t care. Komaeda mentioned that the island was big, so maybe Ouma could avoid everyone for the rest of his life if he wanted to. It would only be for the better, honestly. Without a killing game to solve or murders to investigate, he would only be a useless annoyance to the group.

Ouma bit his lip in frustration. No, that was wrong… He didn’t do any good while he was in the game either.

* * *

“Hey, Survivor. I’m bored,” a blonde short-haired girl tugged on the chain that was attached to a pair of cuffs on her wrists. The opposite end of a chain that Amami was absentmindedly playing with fell to the floor with a quiet clang.

“Don’t call me something you made up.”

The girl smiled cunningly with her lilac eyes. “It’s true though. You survived the last loop, so you got the title. Simple as that,” she rolled onto her back, looking up at the ceiling of the bedroom. “Also, _I_ wasn’t the one who made that up. Shiro-chan did.”

The room fell into silence. Amami didn’t really mind watching Shirogane’s accomplice, besides, he was the one who volunteered to do so. However, spending day after day after day with the girl, her talks about the killing game and the despair have started to get exhausting.

“Hey, _Survivor._ You know what’s interesting about you? This wasn’t your first time getting the perk. You’re the only person who survived the game twice! I think the first one was the third, or maybe the fourth loop? It’s hard to keep track when you’re just watching from the outside. You know what’s even more interesting? The last time you got the survivor perk, you were also the first victim. Funny how that works, huh.”

“For how long have you been doing this?”

“Hmm…” the girl covered her mouth with both hands, thinking to herself. “I think the current one is the eighth loop? I just told you, it’s hard for me to keep track, especially after there’s been so many.”

She sat up and leaned against the wall next to Amami. “The first loop was the best one anyway,” a slight blush appeared on her cheeks. “Kae-chan was such an amazing leader! So full of hope and determination… I couldn’t be prouder. She was always meant to be the protagonist,” the girl sighed deeply. “She’s no fun anymore. She just sits there, moping to herself and being dragged around everywhere by the angry lesbian. She’s just boring.”

“Yeah, I wonder whose fault that is.”

“Not mine. Everything was great before the two traitors showed up.”

“You sure about that?”

The girl shrugged her shoulders and gave Amami a carefree smile. The room fell into silence again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, I wonder who that accomplice girl is~  
> I've waited so long for this, I originally planned to have her appear in chapter 2. >->


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is an OC still an OC if they were mentioned in canon, but had no name, personality, appearance or role in the plot? Probably.

A gust of wind flew past Ouma, making him cover his face with the hood of Komaeda’s coat. He was right. It was cold that day. Ouma would have to thank him for the coat later.

Ouma kicked a random pebble off the road. He had to do _something_ while the cans were filling up with rainwater, but everything in the ruins has proved to be unbearably boring. Well, not everything. The city itself was right next to a sea or an ocean – so close it was practically built on water. That discovery was fun for a few minutes. Also, Ouma found a ship. And it seemed to be in a perfectly good condition, too. There was no one on board, but Ouma figured it belonged to Hinata and Komaeda. They had to get to this god-forgotten place somehow. 

Another thing that Ouma discovered was that some of the buildings had numerous old bloodstains inside. Mostly in stores, but there were some in the apartments, too. More likely than not there used to be some on the streets as well, but they got washed away with time. Ouma preferred not to think about what caused them.

He looked up at the endless sky above him. The sun was already gone, and a bundle of stars scattered across the dark blue abyss. Ouma sighed. Everyone else was probably eating Tojo’s lovingly made dinner by now. Ouma threw one last glance in the direction of everyone’s temporary home and picked up one of the already full cans. 

* * *

“Well, this is a bit… unexpected,” Hinata said as looked at the whole class gathered in the computer room.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Chabashira said. “I couldn’t care less about the degenerate himself. I just wanted all girls to do something together. But then these cretins just had to follow us and ruin everything…” she threw a glare in the boys’ direction.

“You asked me to come…” Amami raised the hand he was holding the chain with.

“For some reason,” the accomplice added. “Why do you need me here, again? I hate introductions, they’re awkward.”

“Gonta didn’t mean to follow anybody! Gonta wanted to thank Momota-kun for defending Gonta at the trial.”

“I wasn’t talking about Amami-san or Gonta-san…”

“Okay, okay,” Hinata interrupted before the conflict got any more out of hand. “What’s important is that all of you got together to welcome back your friend, right? I’m sure Momota will appreciate this nonetheless.”

Hinata looked Amami in the eyes with silent concern. He responded with a small confident nod, assuring the other that he had the accomplice under control.

“Uhh, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda called out from the back of the room, where Momota was laying. “I think he’s waking up.”

“Already?” Hinata asked as he checked the time. It hasn’t even been half an hour since Momota faced his execution. Hinata walked up to the console and pressed a few keys, causing a couple of windows to appear on one of the screens. The windows were filled with strings of code and a bunch of variables, most of which have stopped at zero. “Looks fine to me,” Hinata said, nodding to himself. “Plug him out.”

Komaeda darted behind Momota’s seat and swiftly removed what seemed like dozens of wires. Just a few moments later, he was already lifting the helmet off Momota’s head. The Ultimate Astronaut winced from a sudden lighting change. He instinctively covered his face with his hand, and slowly lowered it back down as his eyes began to focus on his classmates that all gathered around him.

“W-Wha…” he murmured weakly.

“Momota-kun!” Gonta dashed forward and pulled Momota into a bear hug.

“Whoa!” Momota gasped in surprise. “Hey there, big guy,” he patted his overjoyed classmate on the back and looked over at everyone else with a confused look on his face. “Is… Is this the afterlife or something?”

“It’s not!” Komaeda called out as he carefully walked away from the seat, keeping his distance this time, even though it was obvious that he wanted to come closer.

“Really? Cause you kind of look like an angel. With the white hair and all that.”

Komaeda’s face went from excited curiosity to utter confusion that soon transformed into a mix of shock, disgust, and unease as he helplessly looked around him, at his hands, and at the rest of the class, as if trying to find a confirmation that Momota was, in fact, talking about him. Komaeda retreated to Hinata’s side, clinging to the brunette’s hand.

Momota finally broke free from Gonta’s hug and approached the two unknown to him guys.

“Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars,” he reached out his hand with a smile.

“Hinata Hajime,” he returned the handshake, giving the other a small nod. “And he’s Komaeda Nagito. He doesn’t really know how to handle compliments from other people.”

“It’s an honor to meet the Ultimate Astronaut…” Komaeda mumbled, averting his eyes.

“Basically, what you need to know now is that the killing game was happening in a virtual world, kind of like the one Iruma has found,” Hinata said. “We’ll explain everything in more details whenever you feel like it.”

Momota nodded and took a quick look around the room. “So, everything was fake and no one actually died? This is great! I’m guessing you two are the ones who pulled us out of there? Thanks, guys!”

For a second Momota locked eyes with the accomplice. She immediately looked away.

“Why does Amami have a chained-up girl?” Momota asked as he walked closer to her. “You kind of look like Akamatsu.”

The girl let out an annoyed sigh. “It’s because _I am_ Akamatsu. Akamatsu Nuriko. Kaede’s twin. I’m the one who made that nice little playground for Shiro-chan to watch you guys kill each other over and over again.”

“Oh,” Momota paused. “And ‘Shiro-chan’ is?”

“Shirogane-san,” Amami finished for her.

“Oh…” Momota could tell he brought up a sensitive topic. “Well, at least everyone’s still alive. Thank you for not actually killing us.”

“Are you fucking kidding me…” Nuriko whispered to herself, averting her eyes again. It was obvious she was not in the mood to talk.

Still, something felt missing. Or, rather, some _one_. Someone who should’ve been the happiest about the killing game being fake.

“Where’s Ouma?” Momota asked.

“Actually, this is something we wanted to discuss with you. In private,” Hinata said as he glanced at the class and then back to Momota.

Momota’s face turned more serious. “Sure,” he said. “Should we go somewhere else, or are others going to leave instead?”

“Wait, now?” Hinata seemed to have been caught off guard. “Are you sure? Explaining everything might take a while, it might be better to wait until you feel better…”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t felt this good in weeks! I can actually _breathe_ now! If there’s something I need to know, tell it to me right now.”

Hinata peered Momota in the eyes for a couple of seconds, as if analyzing them. He then nodded and turned to the rest of the class. “You heard him. Everybody out.” 

* * *

“So,” Momota pressed his fists together with a thoughtful expression on his face. “To recap, our families are missing, we are considered to be dead criminals, and Ouma has been going around a ruined city since morning. Did I get all that right?”

Hinata and Komaeda nodded in unison.

“What time is it now?”

Hinata glanced at the screen of his phone. “About 10 pm.”

“Dammit,” Momota stood up and headed for the door.

“Wait,” Hinata grabbed him by his hand. “Where are you going?”

“To find that idiot, of course! If there’s one thing I learned about him, is that everything always goes to shit whenever he runs off by himself. I’m not letting him come up with another plan that kills him in the process.”

“That city is huge, and he could be anywhere by now. It will take a long time to find him.”

“So what? I only just woke up anyway.”

“Yeah, about that. You may feel fine, but dying, even temporarily, isn’t exactly good for you. Please go get some rest.”

Momota opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind and only let out a quick sigh of disappointment. He gave Hinata a nod, and the brunette let go of his hand.

“He might come back on his own in the morning,” Hinata said. “We’ll help you look for him If he doesn’t.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow, then.”

Momota raised his hand as a way to say his goodbyes and exited the room, leaving Hinata and Komaeda alone.

“With our combined luck, we could’ve found him rather quickly, actually,” Komaeda said.

“Yes, and you fainted on me less than an hour after waking up while we were on our way to rescue Future Foundation. I’m not risking that again.”

“That was me, though. Momota-kun is a strong guy.”

“I am _not_ risking that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back  
> Back again  
> Kaito's back  
> Tell a friend


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I don't respond to comments as much as I used to. I still read, reread and love every single one. Keep being awesome, guys <3

Ouma jolted up from his sleep in the middle of the night, shaking and breathing heavily. He saw it. No, he didn’t just saw it, he _felt_ it. That damn hydraulic press. It came back to haunt Ouma’s dreams.

He tugged on Komaeda’s coat, clasping it with all his might. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real… Ouma rocked back and forth, repeating the same words under his breath. He grabbed the closest can of water and tried to take a sip, but his shaking hands made most of the water spill all over his chest. Great.

He stood up and began pacing up and down the store aisle, his face buried in his hands. He told himself that he would preserve his energy. Then why was he wasting it so pointlessly? No, it wasn’t pointless. He needed this. He had to get rid of his adrenaline so he could go back to sleep. But every ounce of strength was precious, it was irresponsible to spend it on useless walking back and forth. If he was going to waste his energy anyway, he should’ve used it on something useful. But there wasn’t anything he needed to get done, and…

Ouma quietly groaned into his hands. His thoughts never knew how to shut up. His confusing, contradictory thoughts. He didn’t care. He did not care about what his stupid thoughts had to say. He slowly sat back down, still covering his face. His head hurt.

A minute has passed. Then ten minutes. A half an hour. Ouma started to doze off again, only to jerk up when the press came back. That thing was there to stay, looming over Ouma’s helpless body every time he closed his eyes. The Supreme Leader wrapped his arms around him, curling into a ball. He didn’t even try to hold back his tears at this point.

He didn’t get any sleep that night.

* * *

The dining hall was empty, as it’s always been this late in the morning. Amami liked it that way. Not that he disliked anyone in the group, or disliked social interaction in general, he didn’t mind that at all. But with him being the first one to die and then take custody of Nuriko at the first opportunity, he didn’t really have a chance of getting close to anyone other than the accomplice girl herself. If you could call their relationship ‘close’, that is.

“Do you want to eat some actual food today?”

“I’m not taking anything that those traitors brought with them. Now give me my fucking hardtack.”

Amami sighed and resumed to his usual routine of tying Nuriko’s chain to the table. They both knew that it was pointless. The girl never showed any interest in running away or sabotaging the ongoing killing game. It was as if she accepted her loss right away without putting up a fight. Still, this chain that linked the two together got so familiar and mundane, they didn’t even feel like ditching it. Besides, it made others less wary of the girl, which was always nice.

Amami opened the fridge and found four plates of scrambled eggs made by Tojo earlier that morning. Two were for Amami and Nuriko, even though she never even touched her plate. The third one was probably for Ouma – Tojo always made sure she cooked for everyone regardless of whether they showed up to breakfast or not. Not like the food would ever go to waste – someone would always finish someone else’s plate if enough time has passed. That was an unspoken rule in every big family, and this was no exception.

Family, huh? Amami didn’t think about this before, but with everyone’s relatives gone missing, the closest people they had was their class itself. Could they really become like a family to each other? Amami wanted to believe that they could, but the tension between some people was too high to be treated like siblings’ bickering. No matter what Amami convinced himself of, they were still killers and victims living under one roof.

Amami took his plate and walked back to the table, grabbing a pack of hardtack on his way. Still, who was the fourth plate for? Momota? Amami always took him for the early bird type of person. Was he wrong? Amami shrugged to himself. Not like it mattered anyway. He took a seat next to Nuriko and gave her the pack. She opened it and shoved a square cookie in her mouth with an expression of unbearable boredom on her face.

“Hey, so… question,” Amami said.

“Of course. All you ever do is ask me questions,” she made it sound like it annoyed her, but Amami knew her long enough to know that talking about the killing game and her life as an Ultimate Despair was one of the few things that made her happy.

“Why do you hate Hinata-kun and Komaeda-kun so much?”

“Cause they’re traitors. Duh. Next question.”

“Is that really all there is to it?”

Nuriko paused, looking into nothing as she slowly chewed a piece of hardtack. A minute or so went by before she spoke again.

“Hate is a wrong word. I couldn’t care less about the Servant. He was always just an annoying white noise on the sidelines. Kamukura, on the other hand…” she leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. “He was more than just Enoshima’s tool. He was… an ally, I guess. He didn’t share our ideals, but after Enoshima has died, he was the closest thing we had to a leader. Some of us admired him for that, I guess. _Some_ of us worshipped him, even more so than they did Enoshima. That was a small minority, though. For him to be the one to ruin our fun…” she fidgeted with her hands as a small blush stretched along her cheeks. “Such despair… How truly, truly hopeless…”

Amami thoughtfully poked his food with a fork as he tried to make sense of Nuriko’s rambling. Some things about this girl still confused him to no end. “Don’t you… like it, though? The despair? Why do you dislike him if he causes you to feel despair?”

Nuriko’s face froze for a moment, as if she suddenly realized that she has said too much. She turned away from Amami, hiding her face in her hands. “Because I know what’s going to happen. It’s inevitable at this point. Next question.”

“What’s going to…”

“Next question,” she said, her voice harsher than usual.

Amami sighed sadly, searching in his head for a change of topic. “How do you feel about… me?”

Nuriko slowly pulled her hands away from her face and turned back to Amami, looking up and down his face. Then, she averted her eyes once again. “I don’t feel anything about you. I don’t care about you just as much as I don’t care about the rest of Shiro-chan’s class.”

Amami looked down into his plate. A part of him didn’t believe her. Another part did. He wasn’t sure which part was bigger. Perhaps he didn’t know Nuriko as well as he thought he did. Perhaps all this time he simply lost himself in wishful thinking. He couldn’t tell.

The door opened, and Momota walked in. His hair was wet and drooped down to his shoulders that were covered with a towel. He was wearing a similar to his own, yet still different white shirt with a simple purple print and a pair of black pants. Amami recalled Shinguji wearing the same thing the first day he woke up. Made sense, considering the two were more or less the same height. Amami waved at Momota and nodded in the direction of the fridge, directing him to the food.

A few moments later, Momota sat down across from Amami with his own plate.

“Did you sleep well?” Amami asked, trying to break the silence.

Momota nodded. “Feels weird to sleep in the same room with everyone, but it’s kind of nice in its own way, you know?”

Amami responded with a small laugh. “Yeah. What was that thing with Hinata-kun about, by the way? You were there for a while after we left. I saw you come into the bedroom, but I didn’t want to ask you about it right there and then and wake up the others.”

Momota messed with his bangs, thinking to himself. He was obviously not used to having his hair down. “They were telling me about what happened before all this, for the most part. And then we talked about something we’ll need to do today. That’s pretty much it.”

“So you know about the world?”

Momota nodded.

“Aren’t you worried? You’re being awfully laid-back.”

Momota sighed heavily. “Of course I’m worried. But worrying isn’t going to help anything, y’know? We need to look for solutions to our problems, and if there’s nothing we can do, then there is no point in making yourself feel even worse by overthinking everything. We need to look forward.”

Amami looked at Momota with a newfound appreciation. He had this same conversation with almost every single person to come out of the killing game, and time and time again the responses were full of despair. Momota sharing his optimistic point of view felt refreshing, at the very least.

“Will you come to the Jabberwock Island?” Amami asked.

“Unless a better option comes up, then yeah.”

“A better option? Like what?”

“Like if Shuichi or Harumaki decide to go somewhere else. My sidekicks are all I have now, so I’ll stick with them no matter what. But that’s not something to decide here and now. This problem might not even come up, so why think about it?”

Momota finished his plate and put it away into a pile of dirty dishes that was already towering over the sink.

“Well, I have some things to take care of,” Momota said. “See you around.” With a wide grin on his face, Ultimate Astronaut has left the dining hall. The room fell into awkward silence. The only noticeable sounds were the scraping of Amami’s fork against the half-empty plate and the crunch of Nuriko’s hardtack.


	10. Chapter 10

“Try that one,” Komaeda said, pointing in the direction of a half-demolished building.

Momota nodded and made his way towards it. Komaeda waited for him to go out of an earshot and turned to Hinata.

“This is taking longer than I thought,” Komaeda said. “Maybe it would be better if you switched. Kamukura-kun seems to have better control over your luck.”

“How does one control luck, exactly?”

Komaeda shrugged. “How would I know? My luck’s a train wreck. All I’m saying is, his luck works better than yours.”

“Why do you insist that they’re not the same? We have the same body and brain, you know.”

“You can’t even beat me in a game of cards, Hinata-kun. He jammed my gun and almost killed me.”

“But that was before our killing game. Things might’ve changed after we got… combined.”

“Why do you assume that was the only time he almost killed me with my jammed gun?”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m kidding, relax,” Komaeda laughed, raising his hands in front of him defensively. “But really though, don’t you think it’s worth a shot? It wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“I know, it’s just…” Hinata clutched his fists. “I don’t like it. Being aware of everything I do, but not actually being able to control anything… It just feels weird.”

“I know,” Komaeda said in a soft voice as he gently took hold of Hinata’s hands. “But it won’t be for long. We just need to find Ouma-kun. And I promise not to do anything embarrassing. And to not let you do anything like that, either.”

Hinata groaned quietly before letting out a defeated sigh. “Fine. But if nothing changes after… three tries, I’m switching back.”

Komaeda smiled and nodded. “See you soon?”

“Yeah.”

Komaeda gently cupped Hinata’s face in his hands and landed a small kiss on the forehead. Hinata hugged him in return.

Hinata closed his eyes. His brows furrowed as he tried to concentrate. He instinctively grasped Komaeda’s waist harder, before slowly letting go. He took a few steps back, opening his eyes.

“Kamukura-kun?” Komaeda asked, trying to get a better look at his face.

He nodded.

“Sorry I made him pull you out like this,” Komaeda said as he scooted closer to him.

“It’s fine,” Kamukura replied coldly. “Just don’t touch me. Last time was disgusting.”

Komaeda was going to respond with a cheeky comment, but he stopped himself when he saw Momota come out of the building.

“This one’s empty too,” he said with a hint of unease in his voice. “I’m not sure if this luck of yours is really doing something, guys.”

“Let’s go,” Kamukura said and went on ahead without even looking at Komaeda and Momota.

“Oh, okay,” Momota stammered a bit, before running after Kamukura with Komaeda following shortly after.

“You’re looking confident,” Momota said, catching up with the brunette. “Did you already find him while I was checking the other building or something?”

“Something like that. Can’t believe… _I_ always take so long to figure out obvious things.”

“Obvious things? Like what? And what’s with the weird emphasis?”

“There,” Kamukura stopped and pointed to one of the buildings. “He’s in that one. Go.”

“Okay, sure, you don’t have to be so forceful,” Momota said, glancing back and forth between Kamukura and the building. A bit hesitant, he walked towards it.

“You sure he’s in that one?” Komaeda asked, finally catching up to Kamukura’s fast pace.

“Yes. Can I go now?”

“If you didn’t mess up, then yeah.”

“I didn’t. And stop waking me up without warning. It’s annoying.”

* * *

Right after he stepped into the building, Momota knew that he was in the right place. It started with a simple feeling – a hunch, if you will. Perhaps it was blind trust in Hinata’s confidence. However, he did feel someone’s presence in the room. Then he heard slow footsteps echoing from somewhere in between those empty store aisles. Footsteps and a voice. A quiet, barely-audible voice mumbling something to himself. A voice Momota knew all too well.

Momota began to quietly walk through the store, checking every aisle on his way. After a few minutes of searching, he finally stumbled upon the short dark-haired boy, who was slowly walking back and forth, lost in his thoughts. Weirdly enough, he didn’t seem to have noticed Momota yet.

“Ouma?” Momota carefully called out to the Supreme Leader. He shuddered in surprise and dropped an old dirty can he was holding in his hands. Slightly murky water spilled across the floor.

Ouma turned towards Momota and threw his hands behind his head in a familiar manner. “Hi, Momota-chan. Long time no see.”

Momota looked at him with wariness. Something seemed wrong. No, not something. Everything was wrong. Ouma’s movements felt slow and stiff, his whole body seemed to be slightly shaking, he was even paler than usual, and he had large dark circles underneath his puffy slightly red eyes. He looked even more lifeless than when he was literally dying of poison. Just… what has he been doing while Momota wasn’t there? Yet, there he was, looking innocently at him, with that stupid forced smile of his…

“How did the trial go? Did it work?” he asked. Was _that_ the thing he was most concerned about? A dumb trial that didn’t even matter in the long run? He pissed Momota off. Before he knew what he was doing, Momota ran towards Ouma and smacked him across his face.

“You dumbass!” Momota yelled in frustration. His mind froze when he realized that his punch has made Ouma fall limp to the floor. Shit. Momota didn’t hit him _that_ hard, did he? He kneeled closer to the smaller boy. He wasn’t knocked out or anything. He was quietly looking back at Momota, a weak smile still lingering on his lips.

Momota grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer. Ouma instinctively winced, as if expecting Momota to hit him again. Ouma Kokichi, the Ultimate Supreme Leader, the person who maliciously orchestrated the deaths of two people, the person who was once thought to be the Mastermind, now looked completely powerless and weak, like a helpless kid. It pained Momota to see him like this.

A bit uncertain of what he was doing, Momota pulled Ouma into a hug. He heard him choke on his own ragged breaths. His small shivering grew stronger, to the point where he was outright shaking. A few sobs escaped his lips, despite his best attempts to hold them in. Momota knew he had to comfort him somehow, but he was at a loss for what to do. What were the right words? He didn’t even know what stressed Ouma out so much in the first place. Not to mention the fact that Ouma’s mind was a mystery to Momota even when the boy acted like himself, let alone this… Still, Momota had to do _something._

“It’s okay. The game’s over. No one’s going to hurt you anymore.”

A moment of hesitation. “It’s not okay,” Ouma whispered, choking on his tears. “Nothing about this is okay.”

Good. He responded. This was already better than Momota had expected. He was on the right track.

“The plan failed. Shuichi saw right through us.”

“Of course he did. He’s amazing. Whatever.”

So he didn’t care about the plan after all. Then what was this all about?

“Whatever it is, don’t blame yourself.”

“You don’t know anything, Momota-chan.”

“Not unless you tell me, no.”

Ouma tried to say something, but his voice was once again muffled by his tears.

“Let it out. You’ll feel better.”

“In front of _you?_ Yeah, right.”

“You’ve been sobbing in my shirt for a few minutes now, you might as well go all out.”

A brief pause. Ouma lowered his head, burying his face in Momota’s chest. His hands, that were helplessly dangling by his sides before, were now wrapped around Momota’s back. He wasn’t trying to suppress his crying anymore, but he wasn’t exactly letting it all out, either.

“I… I was trying to protect everyone,” he said through his tears.

“I know.”

“And I couldn’t. I panicked, okay? I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Ouma, panicked? That was new. And, ‘him’? Was he talking about Gonta?

“They all hate me now.”

“They don’t.”

“You don’t know that! I couldn’t protect them. I failed. And they’re all gone, and I don’t even know if they’re okay. If they’re alive.”

Momota’s mind went blank for a second. This wasn’t about the killing game, or their class, or anything like that. This was about something Momota knew nothing about. Everything became a lot more complicated.

“Why are you even here, Momota chan? No one asked you to come. I certainly didn’t,” Ouma’s voice seemed to have calmed down, just a little bit. It even had some of its usual smugness back.

“Because everyone was worried about you.”

Ouma let out a weak, sad laugh. “That’s a lie, Momota-chan. And you know it.”

“Fine, not everyone. Hinata and Komaeda were.”

“They don’t even know me. Can’t you see that they just pretend to care for us?”

“ _I_ was worried about you, dammit.”

Ouma didn’t say anything. Momota couldn’t see his face, but he was pretty sure that last sentence has caught the Supreme Leader off-guard. A few minutes have gone by in silence.

“I still hate you, Momota-chan.”

“I know.”

Momota felt like that was a lie, but trying to argue with Ouma right now was probably not the best idea.

“I’m taking you back,” Momota said. “Like it or not.”

He expected Ouma to protest, but, to his surprise, he responded with a small nod.

“Sure. Just… give me a minute. I want to stay like this for a bit.”

Momota carefully scooted closer to a random wall to lean on. Ouma, with his face still pressed against Momota’s chest, was slowly but surely calming down. His sobs have practically stopped, so did his shivering. Soon, even his breathing was completely leveled out.

“You ready to go?” Momota asked, but got no response. “Ouma?”

Momota lightly tugged on the other boy’s shoulder and looked at his face. He was fast asleep. Right, judging by his dark circles, he had to have been exhausted. Momota let out a small, lightly annoyed sigh. That damn brat… What has he been doing to himself?

Momota held Ouma closer and stood up. The boy was light. Alarmingly so. Momota expected him to be light since he was so short and thin, but this was way too much.

“I can’t even leave you alone for a second, can I?” Momota murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohh boy, here it is. The reunion. I really hope I didn't mess it up.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long delay, this chapter just refused to cooperate with me. >_>
> 
> On a good note, I finally got around to drawing Nuriko, pls check it out: https://orig00.deviantart.net/0a67/f/2018/077/1/9/bnbnb_by_cblpo4ek-dc68g70.png

The first thing Ouma felt as he woke up was warmth. A pleasant, cozy warmth that completely surrounded him. This feeling reminded him of something. Something he hasn’t felt for a long time. Peace. Safety. Being with the people he trusted. It was something Ouma longed for. Still half-asleep, he inched forward, closer to the source of the heat. He was drawn to it, like a moth to a lamp. Someone’s hand gently ran through his hair, fixing a loose strand.

“You awake?” a familiar voice asked softly.

Ouma let out a quiet groan, refusing to let go of this tender feeling.

“I can see that you are. C’mon, get up,” the person lightly tapped Ouma on the shoulder.

With a bit of struggling, Ouma opened his eyes. He found himself lying on a futon in Momota’s embrace, his face practically touching the Astronaut’s chest. Ouma instantly became wide-awake, and, his face flushing red, darted away from the taller boy. Luckily, no one else was around to see any of it. The two were in a room Ouma’s never seen before, but judging by the abundance of futons covering the floor, he assumed this had to be a makeshift bedroom.

“Did… Did I fall asleep on you?” Ouma asked, averting his eyes and awkwardly trying to hide his blush with his hand.

“Yeah…”

“I see… Well, you could’ve just left me here, instead of… whatever that was.”

“I was going to, but you were clinging to me and begging me to stay.”

“I… did?” Ouma had to muster all of his willpower to not run headfirst into a wall from embarrassment.

An awkward silence filled the room. Ouma stared at the floor, too ashamed of himself to lift his eyes.

“Tojo washed your clothes,” Momota finally said, after what felt like an eternity. “They’re in the back of the room.” Momota stood up, glanced at Ouma one last time, as if wanting to say something else, but then stopped himself and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Ouma buried his face in his hands. Just what was he been doing all day? He let Momota hit and hug him, he cried in front of him, he told him about DICE (just briefly, thankfully), he agreed to go back, he fell asleep on him, and then… he begged for him to stay? And worst of all, Ouma… enjoyed it. Some of it, at least. He loved being in Momota’s hands, he loved the warmth of his body, he loved his attempts to make Ouma feel better, no matter how futile they were. Ouma lightly touched his cheek where Momota has hit him. Even it didn’t feel as bad as the last time. This time, it felt somewhat… deserved.

Ouma shook his head. What was he thinking? Getting attached to someone, Momota of all people? As if something good would ever come out of this. Momota was just an arrogant moron stuck in his own delusions. All he ever did is get in Ouma’s way. If anything, Ouma should’ve been avoiding him like the plague. Not… doing whatever Ouma has been doing all this time. The space idiot probably couldn’t even keep his mouth shut and blabbed on to everyone about what Ouma told him before dying. Well, not like it mattered, anyway. Nothing mattered anymore. Ouma tried to either prevent killings at the academy or to escape and then go back to being DICE’s leader. He utterly failed the former and the latter just wasn’t an option anymore. Ouma’s whole existence was useless now.

Ouma hesitantly turned around and looked at the back of the room. There, in a corner, lied a neatly folded stack of his clothes. Maybe… it was time for Ouma to do what he couldn’t do the day before. He anxiously rubbed his wrist, as his heartbeat grew more and more rapid. He slowly walked to the corner, picked up his white pants and checked the pockets, looking for his knife. They were empty. His knife, his lockpicks, even his random selection of spare change he collected over the years that he never used – everything was gone. Did Tojo take it out before the wash? But wouldn’t she put it back or at least put somewhere nearby? Did someone else take it? But who? Either way, Ouma felt somewhat… relieved. He felt relieved to now have an excuse to stick around for a bit longer. He felt relieved and he hated himself for it.

The muffled sound of Momota’s impatient footsteps as he paced back and forth the corridor has brought Ouma back to reality. Momota was waiting for him. Ouma had to quickly get changed to not ‘seem suspicious’, or ‘worry him’, or whatever bullshit excuse would the Astronaut come up with to get in Supreme Leader’s business again. The last thing he needed was an irritating hero-wanna-be following him around everywhere and not leaving him alone for even one second.

* * *

As soon as Ouma exited the room, he found Momota standing next to the door, waiting for him.

“Don’t you have anyone else to annoy?” Ouma asked.

“Nope,” Momota said with a self-confident grin. “C’mon, there should still be some food left.” He grabbed Ouma by the hand and made his way to the dining hall.

Food, huh? That would be nice. Might as well, since Ouma came back to this place.

There wasn’t anyone in the corridor or in the dining hall, except for the two of them. Was everyone else outside? Probably. Ouma figured any of the rooms would get rather cramped if all of their class was inside. Or maybe they were in the computer room. It _was_ pretty spacious. And there was something to do, at least. Watching the killing game, that is. As twisted as it was, Ouma had to admit that he would probably resort to doing so after spending more than a few days in this place.

That thought reminded him… Why was Momota dragging Ouma around, instead of watching his precious ‘sidekicks’? Ouma thought he would loyally wait for them, like a brainless little dog that he was…

Ouma’s thoughts got interrupted by a sudden clink of a plate of scrambled eggs being placed on the table in front of him. Ouma was spacing out way too much lately. He kept focusing on irrelevant things, instead of what was happening around him. Dumbass.

“I could take it myself, you know…” Ouma murmured, trying his hardest to not jump at the food right away.

“Just eat already, will you?” Momota said, taking a seat next to Ouma. A little too close. He could practically feel the heat of Momota’s body. A part of Ouma wanted to get even closer, to lean on his shoulder and slowly drift back to sleep. Ouma felt his cheeks starting to burn up again. Was he really _that_ touch-starved he was ready to cling to anyone after a little bit of contact? Even Momota? Ouma tore his eyes away from him, glued them to the plate and put a small bite in his mouth. It was cold. 

“Hey, Ouma?” Momota said. “About what happened back there at the store…”

“I wasn’t thinking straight. Forget everything I said. I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

“I can’t do that. Also, that threat doesn’t work if the person you’re threatening knows how much you hate killing. Please, I just want to help.”

“Ohh, well, that changes everything!” Ouma looked at Momota with eyes, sparkling with excitement. “Let me, the Supreme Leader of a secret evil organization, tell you all of my darkest secrets! We were forced to work together for a few minutes, so we’re practically besties now! Please, Momota-chan, let me join your losers’ harem because I can’t stand being apart from you for even five seconds!”

“Fine, fine, I get it, you don’t want to tell me anything.”

“Yup. I appreciate your cooperation in the hangar, Momota-chan, but now that that’s done, can you please go back to ignoring me half the time, and hating me the other half? Dealing with you was a lot less annoying back then.”

“You little…”

“Yes, exactly like that. Thanks.”

Momota stared at Ouma with a frustrated look on his face. He seemingly tried to answer back with some predictable overly-righteous remark, before finally giving up with a small sigh.

“Don’t run off anywhere again, okay? I’ll just drag you right back here if you try to.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Ouma lazily waved his hand. “Can you just go somewhere else already? I’m trying to eat, and your moronic aura is _totally_ ruining my appetite.”

Momota slightly rolled his eyes, and, angrily muttering something to himself, exited the room. Ouma patiently waited for the sound of Astronaut’s footsteps to tone down. Once it did, Ouma stood up and made his way to the kitchen counter. He opened drawer after drawer, before finally finding what he was looking for. A small kitchen knife. It wasn’t as portable or convenient as Ouma’s old pocket knife, but it would still do the job just fine. And it wasn’t the only one, so its disappearance wouldn’t get in anyone’s way. There was no excuse to not take it.

After a few moments of hesitation, Ouma grabbed the knife. He glanced around the room, looking for something to cover the blade with, but that soon proved to be useless. After another short pause, Ouma cut off the cloth belts around his legs. No one would probably ever notice. He wrapped the blade in thin strips of white fabric. 

Ouma stared at the newly acquired knife in silence, before anxiously hiding it in his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you get betas on ao3? I kinda want a beta. Does anyone want to beta this?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tfw you got a beta but now you don't know how to contact her because ao3 doesn't have dms >-> Beta pls check your emails I need you

“The game’s almost over, huh?” Amami said with a smile as he looked up at a vast blue sky above him.

“You seem excited,” Nuriko noticed.

“I do? Well, I guess I am. I can’t wait to get out of this place,” Amami stretched his hands to the sky and took a deep, satisfied breath. “You’re going to keep your promise, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Once Shiro-chan gets out, I’ll pull out the rest without them having to die.”

“And you’re not going to use it as an opportunity to kill them… _permanently?”_

“What? No. What kind of person do you think I am?”

“An… Ultimate despair kind of person?”

A smile ran across Nuriko’s lips. Somehow, it seemed different from all of her previous smiles. This one wasn’t smug or perverted. It had a hint of friendliness in it. And with that smile, a glint of hope sparked in Amami’s soul. Hope that maybe he could finally get to know Nuriko. There had to be something more to her than just despair.

“Aren’t you excited too? You’ll finally get to see Shirogane-san again.”

Nuriko’s expression suddenly turned cold and almost… sorrowful. “I _do_ want to see her, but… not if it means that she has to wake up and find out… all this.”

Amami bit his lip as his mind began to wander. ‘All this’? What did she mean by that? Asking directly would probably only make things worse. Nuriko tended to avoid talking about Shirogane or her relationship with her. And ‘avoiding’ meant that she completely rejected all of Amami’s following attempts at communication. Maybe, if he started from afar…

“I thought Remnants weren’t supposed to care about other Remnants.”

“And I don’t,” Nuriko said in a deadpan voice. “Shiro-chan is just a pretty doll I play with sometimes. I pretend to love her and give in to all her wishes, only to break her sometime later. Because despair. Despair despair, despair despair despair. Boy, I sure do love me some despair,” Nuriko’s emotionless expression broke and she burst into a joyful laughter. “Was that along the lines you were expecting? Seriously, where did you get that idea from? Wait, don’t tell me. It was Kamukura, right? He told you that bullshit?”

“Y-Yeah,” Amami averted his eyes and shyly rubbed the back of his head. How was he supposed to know any better? It’s not like Nuriko ever told him anything substantial. Hinata was his only source of information.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“That wasn’t a question,” Nuriko smiled smugly as she lied down to a patch of grass they were sitting on.

“You know what I meant.”

“Fine, fine,” she closed her eyes and covered her mouth with both of her hands – a habit Amami noticed every time Nuriko was deep in thought. Usually when she was thinking about exactly how much she could tell him, which was always ‘practically nothing’.

“We may be Remnants, but we’re still people, Survivor,” she finally said. The Adventurer instinctively winced at his fake title. “We’re not brainwashed tools of Enoshima that Kamukura’s so afraid of. We all have our reasons for joining the despair. They’re not good reasons, but they’re reasons nonetheless.”

Amami couldn’t shake the feeling that her voice had a hint of bitterness to it.

“Do you regret ‘joining the despair?’”

“No. This…” she raised her hands, making her cuffs clang against each other, “…is better than what was before.”

“So… What was your reason for joining?”

Nuriko’s expression suddenly darkened, as if Amami has struck a nerve. She narrowed her eyes and gave the Adventurer a sly look. “I just told you that it wasn’t good. You think I’m just going to tell you?” She sat up and slowly crawled closer to Amami. Closer and closer, until their faces were almost touching. “I know what you’re thinking, Survivor. ‘Something absolutely terrible must’ve happened to her. Some awful tragedy. There’s no way someone would choose to live in despair without something utterly traumatic happening in their past.’ Well, let me tell you a secret. You’re wrong. There’s nothing like that, and the moment I tell you more, you’re going to start judging me, my life choices, and my entire worldview. But you’re in no position to judge me, mister ‘I accidentally lost most of my family so the despair girls would have less work’. Thank you for that, by the way.”

Nuriko backed away and lied back on the ground, still keeping the eye contact. The silence rose between the two, the only sound being the distant chirping of some kind of bug. While Amami was at a loss for words, Nuriko spoke up again.

“By the way, Survivor. Your hair isn’t naturally green, right?”

“Wh-What?” he asked, taken aback by the sudden change of topic. “It’s not, I’m naturally blonde. Why?”

“Hmm, just checking. You kind of looked familiar is all. I feel like I saw a blonde girl with the same eyes as yours. About three years ago, I think? You know, just before Enoshima’s death. I think I may have chopped off her head with a shovel. Or maybe the two of us chopped someone else’s head off with a shovel. So hard to remember…”

A sinister smile stretched across Nuriko’s lips as she watched Amami’s face slowly give in to silent terror.

“How… How old was she?”

“In her tweens, I think. But hey, there might be a lot of little blonde girls with bright-green sad-looking eyes and long lashes. There has to be at least twelve.”

Amami lowered his head and stared at the ground in disbelief. “You’re just making this up, right? To make me ‘feel despair’ or whatever?”

“I could be. That’s what I’m _supposed_ to do, right?” she cupped Amami’s face with her hands and raised his head, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “What I’m saying, Survivor, is that I don’t want you to forget who you’re talking to. I’m fine with sitting on a leash, but I _can_ and I _will_ bite if you stick your nose where I don’t want you to.”

Nuriko let go of Amami and stood up. The frigid cold chain slithered across his leg, sending chills all over his body.

“Let’s go,” the girl said. “I want to see how Shiro-chan’s doing.”

* * *

“Did you think the Ultimate Cosplayer’s talent was only limited to characters? It’d be kinda lame if that was all the big bad mastermind could do… I can do far more than that… I can cosplay the world itself!” Shirogane said her line, pulling her Enoshima wig on and off.

The looks on her classmates’ faces were priceless. Convincing that everything they knew was fictional – this had to have been one of her best ideas yet! It took a lot of preparation, but it was all worth it. The thrill, the confusion, the despair! Not to mention that she got to cosplay as the people she admired for so long, even if it was just for a little while. Well, she didn’t cosplay as _people,_ technically. The small white ‘V3’ in every single person’s eyes was all the difference Shirogane needed to abuse the loophole in her talent. The real counterparts didn’t have those numbers, so that meant that she wasn’t cosplaying as real people. She was cosplaying as characters, who just happened to look extremely alike to those people.

“So if you want to make me your enemy… Then your enemy is the world of Danganronpa itself!”

Nuriko went all-out with the final trial ground, too… Shirogane couldn’t wait to see it from the inside. Especially the audience’s comments that would actually be typed by Nuriko in real-time from the outside. And later in the trial, she would take over Kiibo’s avatar for a little while to create an illusion of the audience controlling his every action. As if any survey could ever accomplish something like that… Still, this would be the first time Shirogane and Nuriko participated in a trial together. Just the thought of it made Cosplayer’s heart pound with anticipation.

“B-But why?” Saihara asked in a desperate tone. “Why would you do this? Why make us think it’s real–“

“Well duh! It’s so you’d all play the killing game! This is the world of Danganronpa, y’know? No shit we’re playin’ the killing game.”

This ‘loop’, as Nuriko called them, was probably the best one in a while, too. There were a few surprising twists and turns here and there, and while they did stress out Shirogane quite a bit at first, she was glad she got to experience them. Never before did she take such an active role in the narrative. She was just a passive bystander in all of the previous loops, whose only role was to reveal herself as the mastermind at the very end, get executed and restart everything a few days later. She never expected that the first motive – something Shirogane has asked for to make the beginning a bit more fast-paced – would make her the first blackened. She expected the loop to end right there and then – it wouldn’t be the first time everyone voted against the wrong person. But surprisingly, it didn’t end. Did Nuriko rig that trial so Shirogane could ‘enjoy’ the aftermath of her first kill? She appreciated the thought, but the gesture itself… not so much. Well, it all worked out in the end.

“But it’s not just any killing game. It’s a killing game that takes place in the real world, propped up by fiction. In other words, it’s the Ultimate Real Fiction!!!”

“Ultimate… Real Fiction?” Kiibo repeated to himself.

“But… if it’s fiction…” Harukawa stepped in, “If everything… isn’t real… Then… The world being in ruins is also fiction, right? The world outside… is fine, right?”

“Oh, that’s right! Of course!” Yumeno perked up, her eyes sparkling with newfound hope.

“How did you like that scene!? Our staff worked really hard on it!”

It wasn’t even a lie. The view of a destroyed planet that not only looked real but also burned the skin and made it hard to breathe – getting it right took Nuriko weeks. Just Nuriko alone couldn’t exactly be called ‘staff’, but still…

“…Staff?”

“There’s no need to worry about the people backstage! Anyway, back to our conversation… You guys can just relax. The world hasn’t been destroyed.”

“Really!? It’s not destroyed!? Then we can all go home and–“ Yumeno chattered excitedly. How annoying… Not only was _she_ one of the survivors, but this was also one of those loops where she got all hyper… Why couldn’t she have died instead of Chabashira or Iruma? They were just as obnoxious, but at least they were somewhat entertaining…

“Nah, that ain’t happenin’.”

“Nyeh!?” 

“Wh-Why? If the world is still intact, then we have homes to return to–“

“I told you that ain’t happenin’, you dumb sea urchin-headed…” Shirogane stumbled over her words, realizing that she had messed up her dialogue. “Wait, that’s me…” she mumbled to herself. She probably should’ve paid more attention to what she was saying, but at that point, she didn’t even care all that much. Not when she was so close to the grand reveal.

“Monokuma, what’s going on?” Saihara demanded, staring at the bear mascot.

“Do you really wanna know? Puhuhu… Forget about the world. It wants nothing to do with you. The walls of this academy are your world now. The outside world is of no concern to you. The audience certainly agrees with me. Isn’t that right, you guys?” The bear raised his voice, making Shirogane’s heartbeat race. That was it.

Monokuma turned the key on his control panel, a bright flash of light filled the room, and when everyone could see again, the trial grounds have changed. It was just as dazzling as Shirogane imagined. The dark-blue walls contrasted beautifully with tiny bright specs of LED lights that were running along the perimeter of the room. Huge translucent cyan screens towered over the trial participants, displaying the game’s ‘audience’. It was perfect. Well, _almost_ perfect. Something was missing. The comments. They were supposed to hover over the screens, mocking everything that was happening and adding to the overall despair. And most importantly, they would be _Nuriko’s_ comments. Maybe they would appear later? She wouldn’t miss their first mutual trial, right?

“Wh-What? Who are these people!?”

“They’ve all been watching this killing game transpire. Of course, those you see here are only a fraction of our total viewers.”

Maybe she was away from the computer for a little bit. She could’ve just been on a bathroom break or something. It was irresponsible of her to not take care of her needs beforehand, but this would probably be the best-case scenario. Shirogane would hate to think that something might’ve happened outside… Nuriko would’ve stopped the game if it did, right?

“It’s just like Saihara-kun said. This was all arranged because people want to see it.”

Shirogane glanced at the screens one more time. Still nothing. Tiny alarms went off in the back of Cosplayer’s head. Did something actually happen?

“Y-Yeah! This is all you, my lovely _audience!_ Don’t you love it? Tell me how much you love it!” Shirogane called out to nothing, struggling to hide the anxiousness in her voice. She just wanted a confirmation that Nuriko was still there, just one sign, anything!

Nothing.

Shirogane anxiously tapped her nails on the panel in front of her. “…Monokuma?” she asked, turning around to face the bear AI. “Do you know what the situation outside is?”

The bear cocked his head to the side. “How am I supposed to know?”

Yeah, right. Shirogane nervously covered her mouth with her hand. She was probably worrying over nothing, but the thoughts of countless scenarios of what could’ve happened outside wouldn’t leave her head. She couldn’t just continue the game. She had to make sure everything was okay.

“Monokuma. Execute me.”

“What?!” Saihara asked with a look of pure confusion on his face.

“Puhuhu,” the bear rubbed his paws together excitedly. “Is that an order?”

“Yes. And… use the emergency one.”

Monokuma’s laughter filled the room. The emergency execution… Shirogane didn’t think that she’d ever have to use it. The simplest, quickest, most painless death possible whose only purpose was an instant way out of the virtual world. A giant rock would fall on Shirogane at a supersonic speed, killing her in a fraction of a second. Other than that, the execution would trigger a script that would wake Shirogane up in the real world before her brain could even recognize that she has died. Technically, it wasn’t even necessary. Shirogane’s avatar worked in a way that would always wake her up right after death regardless. The emergency script was just one of many Nuriko’s extra precautions, ‘just in case’. There were a lot of precautions like that, almost _too_ many. As if Nuriko didn’t trust Shirogane to take care of herself or something.

“Now then! I have prepared a special punishment for Shirogane Tsumugi, The Ultimate Cosplayer!"

Shirogane tapped her foot on the floor impatiently. Why did he have to drag this out? There was no point to hyping it up, this execution was far from fancy. If anything, it was the epitome of an anticlimax. Shirogane threw one last glance at her classmates. They were all looking at each other in confusion, whispering about something.

“Let’s give it everything we’ve got! It’s… PUNISHMENT TIME!!!”

Shirogane closed her eyes. If the punishment worked as intended, she shouldn’t even notice the moment when she’d be executed. A second has passed. Two seconds, three seconds. Everyone’s whispers have stopped. A barely noticeable electronic humming slowly grew more and more audible. Shirogane recognized this sound. It was the computer that everyone was plugged into. She was out of the game.

With a movement that grew so familiar it was practically automatic, Shirogane took off her helmet and immediately jumped off her seat without looking where she was going. Without even making a couple of steps, she bumped into someone and fell with them to the floor.

Shirogane lightly shook her head, finally allowing her eyes to get used to the real world. She was sitting on top of Nuriko, who looked back at her with a sad, almost regretful and apologetic smile on her face.

“Nuriko? Why weren’t you…” Shirogane lost her train of thought as her gaze wandered from Nuriko’s face to her hands. Why was she handcuffed?

Shirogane’s confusion and unease grew stronger as her eyes followed along the chain to the green-haired boy, who was holding its other end. He wasn’t supposed to be awake. Something was very, very wrong.

Finally, she looked at the person who was standing next to Amami with his arms crossed. Hinata Hajime. Or, rather, that’s what Shirogane thought at the first glance. There was something else to him. His left eye. His beautiful left eye, bright and red. So bright it appeared to be glowing in a dim lighting of the computer room. Shirogane has seen that eye before. Only a couple of times and from far, far away, but there was no way she could ever forget it. It was the embodiment of pure perfection, and now it was not only just a few steps away, but it was also staring right at the Cosplayer, who grew more and more timid under its cold gaze.

“Kamukura… sama?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I focusing too much on Nuriko? I feel like I'm focusing too much on Nuriko. This was supposed to be an oumota fic wtf


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, having a beta is incredible

“Tell them, Tojo-san!”

“Tell us what? Did you two fuck and you wanted to brag about it?”

“Would you get your mind out of the gutter for once? This is serious!”

Momota sighed at the sound of meaningless bickering that unfolded in the dining hall. Chabashira gathered everyone there for an ‘extremely important announcement’, but even after what seemed like ten minutes, nothing substantial was said. Be it a snarky comment from Iruma, some preachy nonsense from Angie, or even a hint of a sound from Shinguji – everything seemed to tick Chabashira off even more than usual. Momota couldn’t really blame her, but it was still upsetting. If Ouma was there, the arguing would’ve never ended.

Ouma… Momota lifted his eyes to the bedroom door. That’s where the Supreme Leader was, presumably. At least, that was the last place Momota saw him in, and he didn’t see him come out. Of course, every time Momota tried to come in to initiate some sort of conversation with him, Ouma either kicked him out right away or refused to cooperate and fed the Astronaut obvious off-the-wall lies. His stubbornness in not letting anyone close to himself annoyed Momota to no end. He just wanted to help, dammit. But all he could do was leave the dining hall under the bullshit excuse that the room was too cramped, and then uselessly stare at the fucking door.

“I believe that one of the knives has gone missing,” Tojo’s calm collected voice made everyone else fall silent.

“A knife’s gone missing!” Chabashira repeated, slamming her hand on the table. That one slam was like a signal for all hell to break loose. Suddenly everyone was shouting, bickering and accusing each other over even the smallest suspicion.

Momota felt a chill crawling up his spine. Everyone was tense enough as it was, with victims living under one roof with their killers, nowhere else to go. Now all of that tension was cranked up even higher. There was no guarantee that whoever took the knife took it for something malicious. For all they knew, someone might’ve just lost it. But at the same time, someone might’ve taken it to kill. Even the slightest possibility of that made everyone scared.

Momota nervously tapped his fingers. What could he do to help? Would finding whoever took the knife calm everyone down? Momota was no detective, but… he could try. Shouting accusations definitely wasn’t an answer to the problem. What would Shuichi do? Investigate the scene? Momota threw a glance at the dining hall. It was completely full of people, with no possibility of someone walking in there freely. That place would have to wait. What next? Ask possible witnesses? The only people who weren’t arguing in the dining hall right now were Hinata, Komaeda, Amami with Nuriko, and… Ouma. He probably wouldn’t know much. He was with Momota most of the day, and completely alone in the bedroom the rest. Although… there was a brief period of time when Momota left him completely alone in the dining hall…

Momota got a sinking feeling in his chest. The knife disappeared the same day that Momota had brought back Ouma. And in that same day, he had a perfect opportunity to take something from the kitchen without anyone noticing. But that was just a coincidence, right? Anyone could’ve taken it. And even if Ouma did take it, he must’ve had a good reason. Because he hates killing so much…

Reluctant, Momota hovered his hand over the bedroom’s doorknob. Even if Ouma would just shut him out again, he had to at least try to talk to him. Ouma cooperated with Shuichi during an investigation before, so maybe he’d at least give Momota a hint on what to do…

Momota pulled on the doorknob and walked in. Ouma was sitting in a corner of the room, his legs pressed against his chest. His arms were wrapped around his knees, making his overall position seem small and almost frightened. For a second, Momota could catch a glimpse of a nervous expression on his face, before he lifted his head and put on the usual sly grin.

“Oh hi, Momota-chan! How long has it been? Five, ten minutes? I know you love me, but we have to spend some time apart too, you know.”

Well, at least he seemed to be in a somewhat… cooperative mood. At least, Momota hoped so. He still couldn’t even remotely understand what the hidden meaning behind Ouma’s words were most of the time.

“You’re exaggerating. That had to be at least an hour.”

“Oh, I don’t mean how long it’s been since you last walked in here. I mean how long it’s been since you stood outside the door, debating whether you _should_ walk in or not.”

“How’d you…”

“Nothing here is soundproof, Momota-chan. I could hear everything: all of your pacing back and forth, all of your dumb mumbling… It’s kind of annoying, you know.”

Momota clenched his fist, holding in his anger. He couldn’t lash out at Ouma now, he had to actually think about what he was saying if he wanted to get anything out of the damn brat…

“Then you must’ve also heard about the knife, right?”

“Maybe I did,” Ouma’s grin grew wider. “Why? Do you think I took it?”

“You had the opportunity to.”

“Oh wow, you remembered! I sure did! It almost looks like you’re actually trying to find the culprit! What happened to blind guesses based on nothing? Or is that the exact reason you’re accusing me? Because you had a _‘hunch’?”_

“I’m not accusing you, I’m asking you a question. And you’re avoiding it.”

“Fine, fine, I guess I’m not allowed to have fun anymore. I didn’t take it. Whether or not you believe me is up to you.”

Momota and Ouma stared each other in the eye. Just for a moment, Momota could swear he saw desperation in Ouma’s gaze. As if he was begging Momota to understand something. To find some other meaning in his words.

“Sure. I’ll believe you.”

“You never learn, do you?” Ouma let out a sigh of disappointment. After a few seconds of hesitation, he looked up at Momota again with the same desperate expression. “I don’t know who took the knife, but I can… share my theory, if you want.”

Momota’s eyes lit up. Ouma was actually cooperating! Was Momota finally getting to him?

“You know how I said that nothing here is sound-proof? Well, I’ve been listening to what’s been going on for a while now. I heard Mom tell Chabashira-chan about the knife not long before that crowd gathered in the hall. I think Chabashira called everyone in right after she found out herself,” Ouma looked up at Momota again as if to make sure he was still following. “But you know what’s weird? The only person after us to come into the dining hall was Mom. She was walking in and out quite a few times before she found out that the knife went missing.”

“Are you saying that she took it herself?”

Ouma shrugged. “She had an opportunity to.”

“How do you even know that it was her? You couldn’t exactly see her, right?”

“The footsteps. Are you saying that you wouldn’t recognize your own mother’s footsteps without looking?”

“She’s not your…” Momota stopped himself and rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Okay, but if she did take it, why would she tell everyone about it? If she didn’t tell, no one would ever even know.”

“But that’s the thing, Momota-chan. Let’s just _assume_ that she was planning a murder. _I’m sure that she’s not,_ but let’s assume. She takes the knife, no one notices a thing, and everything’s great. She then kills someone, and everyone either finds the knife at the murder scene or, if she disposes of it or puts it back in its place, someone would recognize that the wound on the corpse is from a knife. And, of course, everyone’s suspicion would fall on her. ‘Why didn’t you notice that the knife was missing, Tojo-san?’ ‘Why didn’t you tell us anything, Tojo-san?’ And sure, she can lie and say that she just didn’t notice, or that she noticed but didn’t think that it was a big deal, or that she kept it a secret to not worry anyone, but the suspicion’s already on her. And let’s not forget that now we don’t have a cute killer bear who’d force us to go through a civilized trial. Everyone’s scared and they just jump to conclusions, especially without anyone to lead an investigation. Something tells me that if a murder occurs, they’ll just lynch whoever seems the most suspicious as soon as possible. But I’m sure that it’ll be fine. _No one will murder anyone else,_ so you should all just let it go and relax.”

Something wasn’t right. Ouma, of all people, saying that they shouldn’t worry about a missing knife? Momota thought that he’d be the most paranoid out of all of them. Or was he just hiding it really well? 

“So you’re saying that she’s the only one who could’ve taken it?”

“I just told you what I heard. No one but her went into the kitchen after us. The knife could’ve been taken before that,” Ouma looked in Momota’s eyes again. _“Or I could be lying, you know.”_

Momota put his hand on Ouma’s shoulder. “I already said that I’ll believe you. And I don’t go back on my word,” he smiled at the Supreme Leader.

Ouma turned his head and averted his eyes. “Dumbass.”

“You’ve called me dumb too many times, the insult doesn’t work anymore!” Momota laughed. Having Ouma cooperate with him for the first time somehow filled the Astronaut with even more confidence and determination. He didn’t know if that meant that Ouma was starting to finally trust him or not, but it sure felt nice to finally talk to the boy without getting a headache.

Momota walked to the door and was about to leave, but looked back at the last second. “Hey, Ouma. I don’t know if what you said is going to help, but still. Thanks.”

Momota left the room without waiting for a reply.

* * *

Ouma buried his head in his hands. That damn space idiot, stupid, moron, bloody imbecile! How could one single person be so fucking dense?! Ouma gave him all the hints! All the clues! No, he was practically screaming at the dimwit about having the knife. All he had to do was use his empty head for once!

Ouma weakly punched the floor. He felt a few small tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Why… was he even remotely upset? Not being caught was a good thing. He wanted this. He wouldn’t have taken the knife in the first place if he didn’t. And why was he so damn emotional all the time? Ouma rubbed his eyes with his sleeve. Everything was fine. Everything was going to be fine. He just had to wait for a little bit longer for an opportunity to sneak out again. Then his pointless suffering would be over.

He heard voices in the corridor. Momota and… Amami. The crowd in the dining hall settled down a bit, but it was still difficult to make out what the two were saying. They exchanged a few phrases, and then one of them walked to the bedroom door.

“Ouma?” Momota opened the door and leaned into the room. “Shirogane’s out of the game and the rest are going to be pulled out in a bit, apparently. You wanna come?”

And there it was. An opportunity when everyone would be distracted.

Ouma shook his head. “I’d just get in the way of everyone. Go to your sidekicks, you stupid hero.”

Momota nodded. “Gotcha. Well, I’ll see you later,” he smiled at Ouma one last time and began to leave.

“Wait, Momota-chan,” Ouma called out without even thinking. “I…” he paused, “I don’t actually hate you. That was a lie. I never hated you, to be honest.”

“What’s this all of the sudden?” Momota let out a small awkward laugh.

“Just… felt like this was a good time to say this.”

Momota averted his eyes. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but… I already knew that,” he confidently pressed his fists together. “Because no one can hate the Luminary of the Stars! And… I don’t hate you either, Kokichi.”

Before Ouma could say anything, the Astronaut had closed the door. Ouma lowered his head again. “Don’t… call me that…”

Ouma put his hand on his hip, feeling the outline of the knife in his pocket.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy.
> 
> (Self-harm/suicide warning)

Komaeda let out a sigh of relief. Hinata’s and his work was almost done. Everyone was finally out of the game, and soon they could return home. No more monochromatic bears, no more deaths, no more despair. Or at least, he hoped so.

Komaeda had a few words with Momota just before Saihara and the rest were brought back, and what the Astronaut had said was lingering in Komaeda’s mind. The knife. Why were Komaeda and Hinata the last ones to know about this? Did they really seem that untrustworthy? They were supposed to take care of everything and let the kids take a long-overdue break. Instead, every day just created more and more conflicts within the group…

Komaeda opened his eyes. Well, at least the moments of reunion made it all worthwhile. Chabashira, Angie and Yumeno, Iruma and Kiibo, Momota and his loyal sidekicks. All hugging, clinging to each other, weeping tears of pure happiness. Slowly but surely, the rest started to join in. Momota pulled Kaede by the hand, dragging her closer to Saihara. Komaeda couldn’t help but smile to himself.

Though, seeing everyone together like this only highlighted how lonely Ouma must’ve felt when he first woke up. Granted, he did so in the middle of the night, but quite a few people were still around. Komaeda did ask them to come, yet, nobody did. And Komaeda just _had to_ act like a freaky fanatic again, when Ouma must’ve felt like shit after dying such a gruesome death… That was _the_ one time he couldn’t afford to mess up, and he did. And it just _had to_ be one of those times the Neo World refused to work properly, so they had to pull out Kamukura to fix it, so Hinata wasn’t there to remind Komaeda to not act like a stupid worthless piece of…

Komaeda shook his head. Bad thoughts, bad thoughts. He wasn’t a piece of garbage. He just got a little too excited back then. That was his only mistake. Everything else was just bad luck. Bad luck he had no control over. He wasn’t at fault. So, he shouldn’t blame himself. Komaeda took a deep breath.

Still, he couldn’t help but worry about Ouma. Momota assured him that he was more or less back to his usual self, but that didn’t really convince Komaeda that everything was fine. Ouma was good at hiding his true feelings, and Momota wasn’t exactly the most perceptive person in the world. Something was telling Komaeda that he couldn’t just leave this matter to the astronaut alone.

Komaeda glanced at Hinata. He stood off to the side and held the end of Nuriko’s chain. The mastermind and the accomplice herself stood nearby, awkwardly holding hands. Hinata could probably handle catching everyone up on his own. Komaeda slowly backed up to the door and left the room.

He was just going to check up on Ouma. Maybe talk for a bit, just to make sure that he’s okay. Though, trying to talk was probably pointless. There’s no way Ouma would open up to Komaeda. Not to someone like him…

No, no, bad thoughts again. Ouma wouldn’t open up to him because he doesn’t know Komaeda yet, not because he was somehow inferior. Once they spend some time together, Ouma will trust Komaeda more. Good. Good thoughts. It was strange, though. Komaeda thought that he got over his self-deprecating way of thinking a while ago. Maybe he was more stressed out by the whole situation with Ouma than he thought he was, and it somehow brought back his old habits? Komaeda reluctantly knocked on the bedroom door.

“Ouma-kun?”

No response.

Komaeda cracked open the door and took a look inside. Empty. He anxiously bit his lip. Maybe Ouma was just in another room? Komaeda checked the dining hall and the bathroom, then went outside and checked the nearby streets and buildings. The supreme leader was nowhere to be found. Komaeda’s worry turned into fear, and fear turned into dread. It didn’t take him long to figure out exactly who took the knife and what they were going to do with it.

* * *

Ouma found himself standing in front of a dark alleyway that was blocked off in the middle by a chain-link fence. He didn’t know where it was, or how long it took him to get there. All he knew is that he left the room, went outside, and just started walking until he came here. This place seemed… fitting. Ouma spent most of his life snooping around in dirty unknown alleyways, so it was only natural he’d end it in one too.

He forced himself to take a step forward. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden? It’s not like his life had any meaning left. This… was the best course of action he could take. The most logical one. The one that would benefit everyone without anyone having to put up with Ouma’s useless existence.

Another step into the dark. He felt guilty, for some reason. As if he was betraying someone by doing what he was doing. Betraying who? Momota? Yeah, right. That idiot was only paying attention to Ouma because he was away from his precious sidekicks for a day. Only because without his sidekicks, he didn’t know what to do with his stupid hero complex. That’s all it was. And because of his complex, Ouma let him get too close. Dangerously close. Well, Ouma won’t make the same mistake again. He won’t have another chance to.

Yet another step. Someone might’ve already noticed that Ouma was gone. He let out a nervous laugh. Momota would be pissed. Ouma _did_ technically say that he wouldn’t sneak out again. Well, Momota shouldn’t have trusted a liar in the first place, so he only had himself to blame. Though… he did say that if Ouma ever snuck out, he’d find him again and bring him back…

Ouma turned around and continued to move backward, deeper into the alleyway behind him. Rays of the setting sun were getting blocked by the crumbled buildings in the distance, making them look like solid shapes of pure black. A part of Ouma expected that he would appear on the horizon at any second. A familiar tall figure in a tacky jacket. Ouma stopped as his back hit the chain-link fence. He waited a second. Two seconds. A minute. Nobody came. With a sigh, Ouma sat down on the ground.

He felt disappointed. He felt disappointed and he hated it. He promised himself that he wouldn’t get attached to anyone ever again. That he wouldn’t blindly trust anyone. That he wouldn’t let anyone see him vulnerable. Yet, there he was, wholeheartedly hoping that some dumbass was going to show up and ruin all his plans. He should’ve known better. He should’ve tried harder to make Momota hate him more. He should’ve kept him at bay. If Ouma hadn’t been stupid and just stayed away from everyone, then maybe he wouldn’t feel this terrible.

Ouma shook his head. His dumb feelings didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. With trembling hands, he pulled the knife out of his pocket. His heartbeat grew faster and louder, and soon it was the only sound that Ouma could hear. The back of his head felt as if it was pulsating, as his brain was setting off every kind of alarm that it had. Ouma put the fabric-wrapped knife on his lap and slapped his face with both of his hands. Everything was fine. Everything was going to be fine. It would only hurt a little bit, if any at all. It’d be just like playing the knife game. Except, this time he was _supposed_ to hit his hand on purpose. And then, it’d all be over.

He unwrapped the knife from the cloth belts. He felt the edge of the cold blade with his thumb. It was sharp. Tojo must’ve taken good care of it. Hopefully, she’d use it again after all this. It’d be a waste not to.

Ouma rolled up his left sleeve, exposing his thin pale wrist. Blue and light-purple veins peered out from underneath his translucent skin. How was he supposed to cut, again? Was it across or along the wrist? He just couldn’t remember. Cutting along the wrist would slice open a large chunk of the vein, but wouldn’t cutting across the wrist slice multiple veins at once? Maybe he should do it at an angle as some kind of compromise… 

He took a deep breath and grasped harder on the knife handle in his right hand. Once he makes the first cut, he’ll start losing blood. And losing blood always meant getting weak and nauseous almost immediately. Fainting too, if it got especially bad. And it _was_ going to be especially bad. In case he didn’t screw anything up, that is. He’d have to be quick and make as many cuts as humanly possible before he gets too weak to even hold the knife.

Ouma threw one last glance at the setting sun. It was already almost gone. He took another deep breath and looked down at his wrist again. Hopefully, one arm will be enough. He put the knife’s heel right below his hand. That was it. There was no going back. His right hand still shaking, he pressed down on the knife and made the first cut.

Blood came running down his arm. The cut was deep. Deeper than Ouma thought it’d be. That was good, though. The deeper the cut, the less likely he was to screw up. And surprisingly, it didn’t hurt. Though, that was probably just because of the adrenaline. If Ouma got lucky, his arm would get numb before he could feel pain again.

Another cut, right below the first one. The familiar noise was slowly finding his way back into Ouma’s ears. It always started as a weird muffled static-like sound, which turned into monotonous ringing as it grew louder. Soon, it’d be deafening. Ouma could tell that he was starting to hyperventilate, too. He had to hurry it up.

Another cut. And another. And another. And another…

The bloody knife fell on the concrete. Ouma’s weak body slowly fell over to the ground as well. He breathed heavily as his consciousness was slowly but surely slipping away. He looked at his arm, completely covered in cuts and blood. The last few cuts weren’t as deep as he hoped they’d be, but it should still be enough. He shifted his fading gaze from his wrist to the alley’s entryway, but he couldn’t see anything.

It was already dark.


	15. Chapter 15

Darkness. Complete and utter darkness. Ouma lifted his hands up to his face, but he couldn’t see even them. Actually, he wasn’t sure if he even managed to move his hands at all. He tried to call out into the darkness, but not a single sound could escape his lips. Then, he heard a voice. A voice he hadn’t heard in years but could still recognize instantly. A voice he had hoped he would never hear again.

“It’s okay, Kokichi. We’ve been through worse.”

Shut up.

“You’re our leader for a reason, Kokichi. Just do what you think is right.”

_Shut up._

“Did something happen? You look troubled.”

It wasn’t real. Ouma knew that it wasn’t real, that it was just his imagination. Or, rather, just his memories. He knew he heard those exact words before. And, what’s worse, he knew what would come after them. What he didn’t know was why he was suddenly remembering all this. Maybe it was his personal little hell. Just darkness and that voice.

“You know you can tell me anything, Kokichi.”

Lies. Dirty, shameless lies. And Ouma was a fool to trust them. He tried to block his ears, but the sound just kept going inside his head. There was no escape.

“Don’t worry about them. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Are you sure?” Ouma heard his own voice. “They might be dangerous.”

Shut up, you naïve clueless idiot. _'They'_ are not the ones who are dangerous.

“I’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine. I wouldn’t want to disappoint my _beloved,_ after all.”

Shut. Up. Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up…

Ouma felt someone gently touch his right hand. The sudden sensation made him shudder, and finally, he woke up.

It took him a moment to fully comprehend what was going on. He was laying on a bed and staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. His heart was racing and his breathing was ragged, the corners of his eyes slightly damp with tears. And he was alive. He wasn’t supposed to be alive.

He raised his left hand up to his face. His whole forearm was neatly wrapped in bandages so tight that his whole arm had gone numb. Aside from that, someone kept holding his right hand.

Ouma lowered his eyes. He saw Momota, sitting at the edge of the bed and looking back at Ouma with a worried look on his face.

“Did _you_ do it?” Ouma darted his eyes to his wrist and then back to Momota.

“No, Hinata did…” Momota’s expression turned to one full of guilt and regret. “I was with Shuichi, Harumaki and the rest. Then suddenly Komaeda bursts in, drags Hinata away, and then…” he stumbled over his words, “then, a few hours later, Hinata comes back and tells me about… you know…”

Right. Of course the Hope’s Peak’s errand boys would want to keep Ouma alive. They’d probably get yelled at by their superior or something if they didn’t. And it just so happens that at least one of those errand boys seems to somehow defy all probability laws. _Great._

“And this place?”

“It’s the ship. They found you in an alleyway close to it, so they just carried you here.”

The ship, huh? Maybe Ouma should just drown himself, that’ll be harder for the two freaks to ruin.

“Hey, are you okay? You kept whispering something in your sleep. And you seemed kinda distressed in general. Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yup. I had a terrible dream that Momota-chan kept following me everywhere I went. Oh, wait! I’m probably still dreaming because _you’re right here.”_

“I was just worried about you. Jeez,” Momota sighed and averted his eyes.

There it was again. His supposed 'worry'. As if Ouma could ever fall for those dirty lies again. Momota never cared about Ouma, no one ever did. So why would he suddenly change his mind? He wouldn't. He's Momota. He never changes his mind. Ouma didn't know how his fake worry could benefit him, but surely there had to be something. There’s always something.

“Could you let go of my hand? It’s getting kind of awkward.”

Momota opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind and did as he was told.

“So, are we alone here?” Ouma asked.

“Komaeda’s around, in case we need anything.”

_Great._

“In case _‘we’_ need anything? Do you plan to keep following me around?”

“You bet your ass I am, after the shit you pulled!” Momota raised his voice. It was obvious that he was trying to hold back and not shout at Ouma.

“Your sidekicks aren’t going to be happy about this.”

“They’ll manage. You won’t.”

“And who are you to decide that?”

“I just want to help– “

“No one asked you to.”

“Kokichi, you _need_ help.”

Ouma shuddered at the sound of his name.

“Drop that ‘Kokichi’ shit. I’m not a part of your trashy harem.”

“Fine, just stop calling it a harem…”

Ouma sat up on the bed. For a second, his vision turned blurry and he began to feel a familiar nausea. Luckily, it _was_ just for a second.

“You shouldn’t stand up yet…” Momota raised his hands in front of Ouma as if preparing to catch him if he falls.

“I’m _fine,_ ” Ouma glared at him in return.

An awkward silence filled the room. 

“Then…” Momota stammered. “If you’re _fine,_ then,” he grabbed Ouma by his bandaged wrist, making him instinctively wince from the sudden pain. “Care to explain this shit? The fuck were you thinking?! I… I don’t get you. The game’s over, you can live normally now, so _why?!_ ”

Ouma’s expression darkened as he lowered his eyes. “Of course you wouldn’t get it. You don’t know anything, Momota-chan.”

“This shit again?! Of course I fucking don’t, you never tell me anything!”

“Have you thought that maybe there’s a reason for that?”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that my problems are none of your business.”

“It _is_ my… “

“No, it’s _not,_ ” Ouma fiercely looked Momota in the eyes. “Leave me alone. How many times do I have to ask?”

“You’ll just hurt yourself again.”

“So what? Nobody would care anyway!”

“ _I_ would! I already care, why the fuck do you think I’m here?!”

“Shut up!”

Ouma felt his eyes starting to tear up again. He quickly rubbed them with his sleeve.

For a while, the two of them sat in silence. Momota still held Ouma by his wrist, but a lot gentler now, so it didn’t hurt anymore. His thumb lightly brushed against the bandages. Ouma hated to admit it, but it felt comforting. He chewed on his lip as he fought the urge to scoot closer to Momota and fall into his caring embrace. He hated to admit _that_ even more.

“Momota-chan?”

“Yeah?”

“You only care about me not hurting myself, right? Can’t you, like… lock me in here or something? Anything to not have you with me at all times.”

Momota blinked a couple of times in disbelief. “You really dislike me that much?”

“It’s not that. Just… please?”

Momota eyed Ouma for a bit, his expression unusually serious and thoughtful. “You don’t have your lock-picking stuff with you, right?”

“I wouldn’t have to steal a knife from the kitchen if I had all of my stuff.”

“True,” Momota sighed. He hesitated for a bit, before finally giving in. “Fine. I’ll leave you here for a little while. But I’ll come back, okay? Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily.”

He stood up and walked to the door. “Do you need anything, by the way?” he asked as he was almost out. “Like, food or something?”

Ouma shook his head.

“Okay,” Momota smiled ever so slightly and left the room. The door’s lock turned with a distinctive sound.

Ouma fell back onto the bed and buried his face in the pillow. He survived. Again. For some reason, the universe just refused to let him die. Ouma let out a sad laugh. He didn't know if he felt relieved or cursed. Not only that, instead of pushing Momota away, he kept letting him closer. But… that’s only because the space idiot was so damn stubborn. It’s not like Ouma didn’t try hard enough to push them away…

Ouma rolled onto his back. No, that wasn’t it… He _could_ try harder. He just didn’t want to. Despite his best efforts to convince himself otherwise, he _was_ happy to see Momota. Regardless of whether the astronaut's concerns were faked or not, Ouma still loved Momota’s attention. He loved waking up next to him, he loved the way he held his hands, he loved the warmth of his embrace. Not just loved, he _craved_ it. And, weirdly enough, Ouma felt safe with him. He felt safe in a way that he hasn’t in a long, long time. Not since... he ruined everything. Ouma hid his face in his hands as he tried to hold in his tears. The voice from his dream still lingered in his head. No, he couldn't afford to make the same mistake again. As painful as it was, he had to get away from Momota, once and for all. And the sooner, the better. Before it’s too late.

Momota would probably go with everyone else to the Jabberwock Island, right? Ouma could just refuse to go with them. Komaeda _did_ say that it was an option. Ouma just didn't want to acknowledge that option before. Sure, everything except the island was probably dangerous, but it didn’t even matter to him. Ouma didn’t plan on living much longer anyway. He already got to live longer than he expected… twice.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, had a bit of a writers block >> But now I'm back, I hope.

Reluctantly, Momota let go of the doorknob to Ouma’s room. He didn’t know if leaving him alone was the right decision. There was no way Ouma could deal with his… _issues,_ whatever they were, all on his own. But perhaps he really did need some alone time, if he was willing to _ask nicely_ to get it… As long as there was no way for him to hurt himself even further, it should’ve been fine. His safety was the main priority, everything else would come later…

“Momota-kun?” a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. Komaeda stood a few steps away from him with a concerned look on his face. Was he already there by the door when Momota walked out? He really didn’t notice.

Komaeda anxiously fiddled with a drawstring of his coat. Faint darkness underneath his eyes suggested that he didn’t get much sleep last night. Well, neither did Momota.

“How’s Ouma-kun?” he finally asked.

“He’s… _awake,_ ” Momota said after a bit of hesitation. He couldn’t call Ouma’s condition ‘fine’, that’s for sure.

Komaeda let out a sigh of relief. “And how’d it go?”

“He shut me out,” Momota rubbed the back of his head, “again.”

Komaeda sighed. “I thought it’d be easier for him to open up to you… Guess I was wrong.”

Momota gave him a side-eye. “Sorry for disappointing you?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Komaeda chuckled. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. I’m not disappointed. This’ll take a bit longer than I thought, is all.”

Momota averted his eyes. He could’ve prevented all this, dammit. He knew who he was dealing with, so why’d he take all of Ouma’s bullshit at face value? If only he wasn’t so fucking gullible, he…

“Momota-kun? You’re spacing out,” Komaeda said, interrupting Momota’s thoughts again. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, just… thinking.”

“I see.” Komaeda folded his arms and looked off to the side. “If you need to get your mind off something, I’m here to listen.”

“I know. It’s just that…” Momota paused, struggling to find the right words.

“You don’t want to be a bother?”

“Yeah.”

A hint of a smile ran across Komaeda’s lips. “Well, I’m pretty much here just so you had someone to bother, but don’t let me force you.” He leaned on the passageway wall and stared at nothing, thinking to himself. “I know that you’re trying to seem like an unbeatable hero who can handle anything and everything, but you can’t bear others’ problems in addition to your own all by yourself. You already tried to, and we’ve both seen how that turned out.”

Momota stared at Komaeda, a bit taken back. “It’s… weird how well you know _me,_ but I barely know anything about _you._ ”

“You can say ‘creepy’, I’m used to it,” Komaeda chuckled. “I hope we’ll get to know each other better with time, Momota-kun.”

Momota responded with a small nod. The two stood in silence, the only sounds being the barely audible whispers of waves and the seagulls’ squawks outside.

“Do you mind if we go somewhere else?” Komaeda asked. “Maybe it’ll help to take your mind off things.”

“Sure,” Momota said, still a bit lost in his thoughts.

Komaeda led the way through the long passageway, and Momota followed shortly behind. He probably shouldn’t have called the other weird, even if he was just being honest. Komaeda seemed carefree about it, but… Momota wasn’t even sure if he could trust what other people say anymore. He could’ve saved Ouma if he just questioned what that damn trickster was saying to him. All Ouma had to do to fool him was pretend to be fine for a few minutes and play along with Momota’s stupid investigation attempt. What’s worse, Momota not only ate it all up, but he was also so freaking happy about it. He didn’t know if he was more pissed off by Ouma’s actions or by his own gullibility. He sighed. He just wanted to get out of these rotting city ruins. He felt like everything would just magically be better once he did, even though he knew that it couldn’t be that simple.

The two reached the end of the passageway, and Komaeda pushed the exit door to the deck. They were met with an autumn chill, light breeze, and salty ocean smell. The ship was shaking slightly from the small lazy waves that were hitting it at its bottom. The early evening sun reflected off water in blindingly bright white strokes that made Momota instinctively wince.

Komaeda took a deep breath that turned into a yawn midway. He leaned on the railing and closed his eyes, breathing in the ocean air. His already messy hair was only getting messier in the wind, but he didn’t seem to mind, as his face was calm and blissful.

“Feels good to be back here,” he said, seemingly more to himself than to Momota.

“But we were here the whole day.”

Komaeda let out a small laugh. “Yeah, but I spent it doing nothing but worrying about Ouma-kun…” He twirled a strand of white hair between his fingers. “Have you decided on what you’re going to do from now on, by the way?”

“No, my answer’s still the same. I have to discuss it with Shuichi and Harumaki first. I didn’t really get the chance to.”

“Right…”

“When do we leave, again?

“Well…” Komaeda rest his head on his hand, “We’re just waiting for you all to decide where you want to go, really. We could leave today if we wanted to. But going to Jabberwock is going to take a while. A week, maybe more if we’re not lucky with the weather. It’d be a waste of everyone’s time if someone suddenly decided to stay in Japan.”

“I see…” Momota tapped his nails on the metal railing. “Ouma hasn’t decided either, right?”

“Ouma-kun? No, I don’t think so…”

“Should he even have an option to refuse? Can’t you make him go to the island no matter what?”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing, but–” Komaeda rubbed his head– “we’re not supposed to _make_ any of you do anything, really. We were only supposed to pick you up and take you wherever you tell us to. We didn’t expect something like this would happen.” 

“He’ll kill himself if you let him do whatever he wants, you know.”

“We need to run it by Naegi-kun first…”

“Then do it.”

“We will. We’ll report everything to him in the evening. It’ll be fine, Momota-kun.” Komaeda gave Momota a reassuring smile. “In the meantime, please be there for Ouma-kun. He needs it.”

Momota sighed and looked away as he thought back to his last talk with Ouma. “He doesn’t want me to be there for him.”

“That’s… wrong, Momota-kun.”

“Huh?”

“I think he _does_ want you to be there for him. But he doesn’t think that he deserves it,” Komaeda said. He paused, as he stared blankly into the distance. “It’s… not easy to accept that someone truly cares about you when you hated yourself for years.” His fingers absentmindedly rubbed the edge of his metal arm through the thick green fabric of his coat.

“‘Hated himself for years’? Ouma?” Momota gave Komaeda a doubtful glance. “That guy’s ego has no limits, I don’t think that’s the case here.”

“That ego might just be a yet another lie,” Komaeda shrugged. He lightly chewed on his lip with an unsure look on his face, as if he was reluctant to speak further. “I’ve been there, you know,” he finally said.

“Been… where?”

“In that same mindset as him. When everything you thought you knew gets flipped onto its head, all your reasons to keep going lose any kind of meaning, and your wants no longer match your beliefs. No, they don’t just ‘not match’, they directly contradict them. You want to ignore everything you found out and just move on like nothing happened, but doing that would mean throwing away everything you stood for up until that point. It’s scary.” Komaeda’s expression slowly grew more and more uneasy. He covered his mouth with one hand and clutched onto his shirt right below his chest with the other. “So you convince yourself that neither you nor your feelings matter and you should do what would be better for everyone else. Even if what you think is better in actuality would only make everything worse.”

“And… What’d you do?” Momota reluctantly asked.

“I made someone kill me without them knowing and almost dragged everyone else with me. All because I found out that we were the Ultimate Despair.”

“Huh. I… I see,” Momota stammered, at a loss for how to respond.

“I thought that killing everyone was the only way for hope to win over despair,” Komaeda continued. He let out a small sad laugh. “Us saving you is what you’d call hope, right? But none of us would’ve been alive if I’d succeeded. Same with the Future Foundation’s killing game. By trying to end despair, I would’ve only created more despair. Shows how blind I’ve been, huh?” Komaeda paused. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s hard to see that you’re doing the wrong thing when you’ve convinced yourself that you’re in the right. And if people try to help you, you don’t see it as help. You see it as people ganging up on you because they’re too dumb to understand that you’re doing the right thing. But you can’t explain it to them, because you’re afraid that doing so will expose the holes in your reasoning that you’ve been trying to ignore. So you do your best to avoid everyone, trust no one but yourself, and if there’s no way to avoid a conversation, you make yourself as unlikable as possible, so those ‘dumb people’ won’t even think about talking to you ever again.”

“That’s… Ouma, alright,” Momota sighed. 

“And what’s worse, no one can _make_ you understand how full of shit you are. You have to do it yourself, and something like that doesn’t just happen overnight. You have to admit that you were wrong, and you have to want to change, not for someone else, but for your own sake. Otherwise, you’ll just be stuck in your backward ideologies for the rest your life.”

Momota averted his eyes. “Ouma’s the one you should be saying this to, not me…”

“It won’t reach him,” Komaeda refuted. “Like I said, he’ll just think that I don’t understand anything. He’s not going to listen to reason. Not right now, at least.”

“Is there _nothing_ I can do?”

“You just have to do what you do best. Make him feel like he belongs. Everything else _should_ eventually follow. Please be patient with him, Momota-kun.” Komaeda slightly furrowed his brows, as he thought something to himself. “And– “he turned back to Momota– “can you ask your sidekicks to do the same? I know Saihara-kun wasn’t _too_ hard on him, but Harukawa-san…” Komaeda slightly winced, “…not so much. I’m not saying that she should be all friendly with him and all that, but… make sure she isn’t out to kill him at all times.”

“Sure. Got it.”

Komaeda looked up at the sun that was slowly moving to the horizon. “I should probably head back. Are you going to spend another night here?”

“Yeah. Can’t exactly leave Ouma here alone.”

“Okay,” Komaeda nodded. “There’s food in the kitchen. Make sure Ouma-kun eats something.”

“Yeah, I will. And, Komaeda?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks. For everything.”

Komaeda smiled slightly. “Good luck, Momota-kun.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I like to write long dialogues and to overthink throwaway lines that may not even be canon

Ouma sighed and leaned his back against the wall before looking around the room for the zillionth time. Blank yellowish-white walls. Black carpet. A bed with white sheets that Ouma was sitting on. A simple wooden bedside table next to it. A small window that showed nothing but waves. A low white ceiling with a single light-bulb hanging off it. Nothing else. Blink. Repeat.

It was boring. It was hopelessly, utterly, unimaginably boring. But at least looking at the same things over and over again kept Ouma from thinking about anything else. He didn’t want to let himself think about anything else. He was afraid of letting himself think about anything else.

Walls. Carpet. Bed. Table. Window. Ceiling. Blink. Repeat.

He swallowed as he tried to ignore the slowly rising nausea he got just from sitting. He would probably feel better if he lied down, but then he could fall asleep. And if he fell asleep, he’d be completely powerless before his own mind, memories, and imagination. Ouma didn’t want to risk it.

Walls. Carpet. Bed. Table. Window. Ceiling. Blink. Repeat.

The door’s lock clicked, finally breaking Ouma’s cycle of nothingness. He instinctively let out a sigh of relief before realizing that dealing with Momota wasn’t that much easier.

“Back already?” Ouma mustered all of his strength to look smug as usual. The sooner he got Momota to leave, the better. “And here I hoped you finally found something better to do with your time.”

“Shut up,” Momota responded in a nonchalant manner as he walked into the room with a plate and a glass of water. He sat down on the bed beside Ouma and placed the plate of baked fish and rice in front of him. “Here,” Momota said. “It’s no Tojo’s cooking, but you should eat something.”

Ouma looked down at the plate with uneasy eyes. He felt like throwing up as it is, he wasn’t sure if he could make himself swallow a single bite.

“I’m not hungry,” he said, turning his eyes away from Momota.

“Like hell you’re not, you ate a single egg in three days.”

“I’ve been through worse.”

“So what?” Momota sighed. “You don’t have to suffer _now._ ” Clearly annoyed, he tapped his fingers on the white sheets. He took a deep breath and looked down at Ouma again, his expression now unusually warm and caring. “C’mon. You lost a lot of blood, give your body something to make more.”

“Shut up,” Ouma murmured as he picked up the plate. Why’d Momota have to still be there? If he only came to give Ouma the food, then he could’ve left already. But no, he had to sit there, so close that Ouma could touch him if he just reached out his hand. He had to sit there and look at Ouma with those stupid pitying eyes and remind him of everything that he tried so hard not to remember. Stupid Momota… Ouma put a small piece of fish into his mouth. Bland and tasteless, as usual. Of course, there was no reason for it to be any different. At least it was warm this time…

“How is it?” Momota asked, his eyes glinting with genuine curiosity.

“It’s… good,” Ouma lied. There was no reason to upset Momota over something he couldn’t fix. “Maybe make something a bit spicier next time?”

“Spicier?”

“Yeah. I like spicy things.”

Momota eyed Ouma for a bit before slightly shrugging. “Sure. Honestly, I’m just glad that you’re implying that there _will be_ a ‘next time’.”

“I could be lying again.”

“Don’t you dare.” Momota jokingly pushed Ouma’s shoulder, lightly enough to not make him fall over. “But really… Don’t do anything like that again. Ever.”

“You do realize that even if I say ‘yes’, it will mean nothing, right?” Ouma gave him a skeptical look. “You’re still going to trust me after what I did?”

“I told you that I’ll believe you, right?” Momota averted his eyes and rubbed the back of his head. “That still stands. I know I might regret it, but… yes. I _am_ going to trust you.”

“Dumbass,” Ouma clicked his tongue. “Fine. I won’t do it again.”

Momota slightly smiled, seemingly happy with Ouma’s response. “Thanks.”

Ouma lowered his eyes and began picking at the slightly overcooked rice with a fork. “Hey, Momota-chan?” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Do the rest know about it?”

“Hinata told me personally, I’m not sure if he told anyone else. Komaeda was here with you the entire time until just recently, so he couldn’t have told anyone. I told Shuichi and Harumaki– “

“Of course you did,” Ouma sighed.

“–but I didn’t tell them anything specific. I only told them that ‘something’ has happened to you and that I had to be here.”

“…thanks,” Ouma muttered.

“Just so we’re clear, I don’t think that hiding it was the right thing to do. I only did it because I thought that it’s what you would’ve wanted.” Momota threw a quick glance at Ouma. “I won’t tell any more than I already have, but… _you_ should tell everyone.”

“Why? They had nothing to do with that.”

“You sure about that?”

“What? Yes.” Ouma gave Momota a confused look. “Did you think that I tried to kill myself because of them? Geez, you’re even dumber than thought.”

“But still… wasn’t it at least part of that? They treated you like shit, hell, _I_ treated you like shit, you were completely alone all this time…”

“Because I wanted to be, duh. If you’re going to spew your feely nonsense, go do it somewhere else, ‘cus I don’t need it. I made everyone hate me on purpose because it’s easier that way. They don’t care about me, I don’t care about them. It’s a perfect harmony.”

“Ouma. Just how much of that was complete bullshit?”

“None of it.”

“Liar.”

“Shut up…”

The two sat in silence while Ouma tried to force himself to eat some more. After a few minutes, he finally gave up and placed an almost untouched plate at the bedside table.

Momota sighed. “Try to eat some more later, okay?”

“What are you, my mom?” Ouma gave him a weird look and took a sip out of the glass.

Momota averted his eyes and began to awkwardly fidget with a strand of his long purple hair. “If Tojo can be your mom, then so can I.”

Ouma smirked. “Gross.” He placed the empty glass next to the plate. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to say this for a while, your hair looks even stupider than usual,” he said, looking at Momota who was still messing with the strand.

“They don’t have any hair gel here.”

Ouma looked at Momota for a bit, thinking to himself. “…should be long enough…” he murmured under his breath. He scooted closer to Momota and, using his shoulders as support, lifted himself to his knees.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Momota instinctively tried to squirm away from a new unexpected weight on his shoulders.

“Trying to save the world from looking at the birds nest on your dumb head. Stay still.” Ouma ran his hand through Momota’s hair, gathering it together. He felt the Astronaut slightly shivering from his touches. Ouma’s lips stretched into a soft smile.

Ouma raised one of his hands up to his mouth, bit onto the cloth belt on the cuff of the sleeve and pulled, tearing the belt off. After taking the belt out of his mouth, Ouma wrapped it around Momota’s hair, making it into a ponytail.

“Better,” Ouma muttered as he crawled back into his place and admired his work.

Momota carefully touched his head with his hand. “You’re good at this, huh?”

“Someone I knew liked it when I did their hair, so I’m used to it,” Ouma shrugged.

Momota lightly chewed on his lip with an unsure look on his face. “Were they… from DICE?” he finally asked after some hesitation.

Ouma’s mind went completely blank for a few seconds. Then it started racing. He knew. Momota knew about DICE. Did he somehow see Ouma’s motive video? No, he couldn’t have. Then, who told him? Hinata? Komaeda? Saihara? It wouldn’t be too bad if it was Saihara. He barely knew anything himself. Hinata and Komaeda, on the other hand… They seemed to know quite a lot. Certainly more than they let on. They could even know more than Ouma knew himself, considering that he was apparently missing three years’ worth of memories…

Ouma’s expression darkened. “How much do you know?”

“Not much, honestly.”

Good.

“I know the name, obviously. And, I know that there were ten of you…”

“Eleven,” Ouma blurted out before even thinking.

“Huh?”

Ouma’s heart skipped a beat as he realized what he’s just done. “There were eleven of us. Or, rather, used to be,” he explained, now being extra careful with his words.

“What happened?”

“One left the group,” Ouma shrugged. “It was sad to see him go, but nothing too surprising, you know? He had his own ambitions, so if anything, we were only weighing him down.” Ouma put on his best mildly sad nostalgic face.

“I see…” Momota said as he looked away from Ouma, seemingly convinced by his words. “Other than that, I know about the ‘no killing’ rule, and that’s pretty much it.”

Ouma’s mind finally relaxed. He’s never been happier to see Momota fall for one of his lies. “Good, because… no one’s supposed to know about the Supreme Leader’s secret organization, y’know? If you knew any more than that, I’d have to break the rule and kill you.”

Momota grinned. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Ouma responded with a sly smirk.

“Yeah, right.” Momota reached out and ruffled Ouma’s hair. “I’m sure you could kill all of us if you wanted to, Supreme Leader.”

“Yep! I _totally_ could! You guys have no idea how lucky you are that I’m so peaceful.”

Momota laughed, and Ouma pretended to laugh along with him. “Hey, Momota-chan?” he said, “I wanted to get some sleep, so can you, uh…”

“Leave you alone?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure you don’t want me to stay with you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked you to leave if I wasn’t.”

Momota sighed. “See you in the morning, then.”

Ouma waited for Momota to walk out the door and for the lock to click once again. Once they did, he sighed with relief. He really had to pay closer attention to what he was saying to Momota… Well, at least the lies worked. At least Momota was too gullible for his own good. Maybe even for Ouma’s good…

With a sad smile, he lifted his eyes. As if his mind would let him rest while he’s alone…

Walls. Carpet. Bed. Table. Window. Ceiling. Blink. Repeat.

Ouma felt the nausea slowly coming back. He didn’t even realize how good he felt with Momota around.

Walls. Carpet. Bed. Table. Window. Ceiling. Blink. Repeat…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tfw you can't tell if you foreshadowed so much everyone's going to see exactly where you're going way too early, or if you foreshadowed so little no one is going to notice that something was even foreshadowed


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long delay. These will probably continue until my exams are over, which is for another month or so. I apologize in advance.

Hinata glanced at his phone screen. About an hour left until they had to report to Naegi. Hopefully, Komaeda would be back by then, just in case something new came up…

“Hey, Kamukura.”

Right. Ouma wasn’t the only problem Hinata had to keep track of.

“I told you not to call me that,” he said, turning around to look at Nuriko, who was sitting in the corner of the room. Shirogane was sitting right next to her, staring at the floor.

“Whatever the hell you decide to do with me is fine, but leave Shiro-chan out of this. She didn’t do anything.”

Hinata took a deep breath. If he had to go through this same conversation one more goddamn time…

“She’s the mastermind. How was she ‘not doing anything’?”

“She wasn’t. It was my idea. The whole thing. She was only helping me accomplish it.”

“Then that just makes _her_ the accomplice instead of you. She’s still guilty.”

“I forced her to help! I needed her cosplaying talent to frame sister’s class, so I blackmailed her.”

“If that were the case, you would’ve just used her and gotten rid of her once she was useless to you.”

“I still needed someone to play the mastermind role in the Neo World.”

“You didn’t. The Monokuma AI could have handled that role just fine.”

“I…”

“Besides, from what you’ve told Amami-kun, you never cared about this killing game, right? At least, you didn’t care about keeping it going for too long. If so, why would you stay here if it was only _your_ doing?”

Nuriko lowered her eyes, unable to come up with an answer.

“…Which brings me to another point. See, maybe I would’ve believed you if you told me it was all for the sake of creating the same despair over and over again or some bullshit like that, but that’s the thing. You don’t care about despair. You don’t care about Enoshima or her games. You try to seem like you’re a Remnant, but you’re not. You wouldn’t do any of this on your own. You’re both guilty, Nuriko-san. So stop trying to lie to me. It’s not going to work.”

Slowly, Nuriko looked up at Hinata again. “Me? Not a Remnant?” She smirked. “You think I don’t care about despair? I do. I just don’t idolize it.” The smirk slowly morphed into a bitter, angry grimace. “What, you think all Remnants are just brainwashed despair-obsessed fanatics? Have you even _talked_ to a real Remnant?! How’d you manage to be our leader for a year without even knowing who you were leading? You think all of us were the same as that half-dead servant you drool over all the fucking time, huh?”

“Nuriko-san…” Shirogane reached out and lightly pulled on Nuriko’s shoulder. “It’s fine, really…”

“I am _not_ done,” she pushed Shirogane’s hand away. “You wanna talk about someone not being a Remnant? If someone here isn’t a Remnant, it’s Shiro-chan! She’s just a fangirl who called herself one! She’d never even killed anyone before this last loop! The Adventurer was her _first,_ you hear?! And even then, she only killed him because she knew that he wouldn’t actually die! How’s that wuss a Remnant in your eyes when I’m apparently not?!” She stared him in the eyes angrily, her breathing slightly ragged from all the shouting. “At least go easy on her, dammit…” she murmured as she looked away, finally calming down.

“That’s not up to me to decide,” Hinata said.

“Yes it is. That ‘Ultimate Hope’ guy is an incompetent indecisive pushover, his two besties don’t give a fuck, and the other three are just that: ‘the other three’. They don’t decide _anything._ I’m telling you, the Hope guy is just going to leave it all to you like he always does.”

“You’re not giving Naegi-kun enough credit.”

“No, _you’re_ giving him too much.”

“Whatever…” Hinata sighed as he looked down at his phone again. He just wanted Komaeda to be back already.

* * *

Momota took a deep breath as he watched the sun sink into the ocean. The last rays disappeared, letting the stars and moon, distant and beautiful as ever, take over the vast somber sky. Momota couldn’t help but reach out his hand to them, before reluctantly lowering it again. The stars would have to wait. Maybe a year, maybe two, maybe ten. However long it would take for the whole despair thing to finally calm down. After all, nothing could stop the Luminary of the Stars from reaching the stars… But that didn’t matter now. He was needed here, on Earth…

Momota sat down on the ship deck and leaned his back against the railing, listening to the soothing sound of waves. Something about his last talk with Ouma just refused to leave his head. The eleventh DICE member. It wasn’t even the member himself that seemed suspicious, but rather Ouma’s reaction. Momota could swear that for just a brief moment, he saw a flash of pure fear in Ouma’s eyes right before he hastily tried to change the subject that he himself had brought up. He brought it up by accident, there was no doubt about that. But still, was that really enough for Ouma to react in such way? What was he so afraid of?

Momota sighed. He knew one thing for certain: there was no way that the eleventh member just ‘left the group’. There was more to him. And something was telling Momota that if he figured out what that ‘more’ was, it would bring light to everything else that Momota couldn’t understand about Ouma. And then, maybe he would finally find a way to help him. There had to be a way.

Momota looked up at the door in front of him. The door that led to a passageway that would eventually lead to Ouma’s room. Should he have stayed with him? Ouma probably would’ve been against it, but still… he felt that every time he left him alone, something horrible was going to happen to him. Then again, how could he _not_ feel this way? In those couple of days, the only time he’d seen Ouma in a not-horrible state was when the supreme leader was sleeping next to him. And even then, Ouma’s sleeping state was only ‘not horrible’ by comparison. He kept clinging to Momota in desperation, always mumbling to himself as though he were having constant nightmares.

Momota stood up and walked to the door, but as his hand hovered above the handle, he stopped himself. As much as he wanted to see Ouma again, perhaps this was not the best time. Ouma _asked_ Momota to leave. He _asked_ him to cook something for him tomorrow. Ouma began to trust Momota enough to make requests. It was a small step, but a step nonetheless. Momota didn’t want to take a step backward by betraying that small amount of trust. So, he lowered his hand, turned away from the door and began walking along the ship deck instead. He would stay away from Ouma’s room until morning like he said he would. He was probably worrying over nothing anyway. Ouma couldn’t get any worse while locked in his room. Not like he would stab himself to death with a fork or something…

As he walked, he eventually began to hear someone. The two familiar voices of his sidekicks coming from somewhere on the ground next to the ship. What were they doing all the way out here? This late, no less…

“Ah, Momota-kun!” Saihara called out as the astronaut walked closer to the railing and they could finally see each other.

Harukawa’s eyes lit up as soon as they met with Momota’s. She lightly waved at him, and he gave her a smile in return.

“It's... It’s nighttime,” Saihara said. “We thought that maybe you’d want to continue our training. I know we skipped yesterday, but... we _are_ still doing this, right?”

“Ah, yeah, right…” Momota muttered. “Of course! Gimme a sec.”

He hurried over to the ramp. He didn’t know why he didn’t expect Saihara and Harukawa to show up, but he really didn’t. No, even worse, it was like he completely forgot about them after what happened to Ouma. For him to abandon his sidekicks like that… It wasn’t like him at all…

As soon as he took a step off the ship, Harukawa ran towards him and hugged him, hiding her face in his chest.

“Momota…” she whispered. “I missed you. I missed you so much…”

Momota gently patted her head, which made her bury her face even harder.

“How’s Ouma-kun?” Saihara asked as he finally caught up with Harukawa.

“He… needs time,” Momota said, trying not to accidentally give away too much.

“What even happened to him? You never told us.”

“Yeah,” Harukawa said as she took a step back. “What’s so important that _he_ gets to keep you all to himself again?”

“Harumaki… I’m here by choice. No one’s keeping me here.”

 _“He does,_ though…” she whispered to herself as she angrily bit on her nail.

“And, about what happened… I can’t tell you. Sorry. At least, not now…” 

Saihara covered his mouth with his hand, and his eyes quickly darted from side to side as he thought to himself. A sight that Momota knew well. If Saihara had that determined look on his face, then Ouma’s secret probably wouldn’t stay a secret for much longer, despite Momota’s best efforts. Maybe that was for the best…

“Well, whatever It is,” Saihara said, “I’m sure Ouma-kun needs you more than we do.”

“Yeah…” Momota averted his eyes. “He does…”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT YEAR IS IT???
> 
> Ok, so. Sorry for the wait. Hope you all are still here. I'm almost out of the exam void, so there shouldn't be any more delays. Or, at the very least, the delays won't be as long. I promise. ;;;>->
> 
> **Ok, warnings for the chapter:**  
>  A few mentions of the suicide attempt here and there. Nothing too extreme, but still.

“You… are the most detestable cretin I have ever met.”

Ouma clutched his pillow closer to his chest and buried his face in it. He tried to ignore his thoughts, but they always returned, again and again, until he had no strength to fight them anymore.

“You’re alone, Ouma-kun. And you always will be.”

No, he wasn’t alone. And it was the worst. It would’ve been so much better if he was just left alone. If no one had found him and he was left to die in that alleyway. Maybe it was cowardly of him, but he didn’t care. That was his best option. No one would have to suffer if he was just allowed to do what he had to.

"Guess I got bored of you."

Ouma bit his lip until he felt a warm drop of blood gathering in the corner of his mouth. At least he wasn’t harming anyone but himself, unlike _some_ people.

“Sorry, I guess? But I’m not the one at fault here, Kokichi.”

Ouma sniffled. “I’m sorry too, you dumbass…” he whispered into an empty room.

Ouma’s restlessness drove him mad. The whole night, he would constantly fall asleep only to wake up from a yet another nightmare mere moments later. Usually from a sight of a cold metal press looming over his helpless body. Somehow, despite everything Ouma’s been through before, during, and after the killing game, that damn press still filled him with the most dread. 

He was tired. So damn tired. Tired of not being able to sleep. Tired of constant nausea that had refused to leave him ever since the alleyway. Tired of having to push everyone away. A part of him wanted to just give up and let Momota do his thing. If only that was all there was to it… Sure, Ouma probably would’ve felt better if he did so. A lot better. But that need to stay alone wasn’t born from some irrational fear. There was a reason. A reason he had to remind himself of more and more lately.

Ouma’s thoughts were finally interrupted by the sound of a turning lock. Already? Ouma glanced at the window. The sun had barely lifted itself over the horizon. Momota did say that he’d come in the morning, but Ouma didn’t expect him to come _this_ early…

Hastily, he threw the pillow back into its proper place and sat up, leaning his back against the wall.

“Oh hey, you came after all,” Ouma said in the most arrogant tone he could muster. “What a shame.”

“Yeah, yeah, nice to see you too, asshole.” Momota rolled his eyes and walked straight to the bedside table.

“Didn’t eat anything after all, huh?”

“What, were you hoping I’d compliment your cooking again?”

“I was _hoping_ that you’d stop starving yourself,” Momota sighed. “Hey, want to come to the kitchen with me? I could–” he paused when he finally looked at Ouma.

“What?” he asked, despite knowing full well what made Momota lose his train of thought. He must’ve looked awful, with how much he cried and how little he actually slept.

“Did you stay up all night?”

Ouma shrugged. “There were _moments_ of sleep if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Shit…” Momota groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Knew I should’ve stayed with you. Sorry.”

“I _told_ you to leave, you know. So, no. You shouldn't have stayed. Actually, the sooner you leave now – the better. For both of us.”

Momota sighed and sat down on the bed beside Ouma. “One question. Why are you doing this? Any of this?”

Ouma averted his eyes.

“Don’t want to answer, huh? Thought so… Fine, whatever.”

Of course he didn’t. Why would he? That was none of Momota’s business. He would probably disagree, but still. And even if Ouma didn’t care about his own privacy, telling Momota of all people would only make everything worse. If it was anyone else, telling them could’ve helped to keep them away. But not Momota. He was a special one. He was too stupid. Too careless. Too damn accepting of everyone. If anything, telling Momota would only make him want to be even closer to Ouma…

Speaking of closeness – Ouma darted his eyes to Momota – they _were_ sitting awfully close. As if Ouma wasn’t longing for any semblance of physical contact enough already… Momota was just provoking him at this point, wasn’t he? It was as if he was everything that Ouma could ever want: someone willing to put up with him, despite everything he’s done, someone who wanted to truly understand him, someone who was a lot stronger than him… both mentally and physically.

Ouma shook his head. So what? That didn’t change anything. _He_ was stronger too. At least, he was supposed to be… But, maybe – Ouma absentmindedly rubbed the bandages on his wrist – maybe he could at least use his failed attempt to his advantage. Maybe he could at least enjoy this time while he was too weak to do anything…

“Hey, Momota-chan?”

“Yeah?”

Ouma nervously chewed on his lip. “I'm gonna do something really dumb, ‘kay? It’s gonna be a one-time thing, so don’t get your hopes up. I’ll pretend like it never happened afterward, and you should too. I’ll murder you in your sleep if you ever mention it to someone else, got it?”

“S-Sure?” Momota gave him a weird look.

Ouma hesitantly scooted closer to Momota and leaned on his shoulder. “There. Let me stay like this for a bit.”

“Wait, that’s it? With all of that buildup, I was kind of expecting something a lot different...”

“S-Shut up.”

“It’s really not that big a deal, you know,” Momota carefully put his arm around Ouma’s shoulders, “It’s not even the first time.”

“I told you I wasn’t thinking straight back then.”

“And now you are?”

“I am. That’s why I told you to keep quiet.”

“If you say so,” Momota shrugged.

Ouma glanced at Momota. He really didn’t seem like he had anything else to add. Just a simple ‘if you say so’ and nothing else. It was weird. Ouma expected him to disagree, or to try to prove some stupid trivial point, or do literally anything other than simply shrugging it off. Actually, Momota was weirdly obedient lately in general. Ouma didn’t know how to feel about it. Well, it _was_ easier to deal with him like this, so it was probably just another thing to keep in mind. Not like Ouma needed any more of those...

He sighed and snuggled closer to Momota, slowly giving in to the warmth and coziness. “I hate this...” he muttered, clutching a corner of Momota’s jacket in his hand.

“You don’t.”

“You don’t get it… I don’t hate _this,_ and that's exactly what I hate about it.”

“You lost me.”

“Of course I did… Geez... You’re too dumb to understand, why am I even trying to tell you anything?”

Nothing. Not even reacting to being called dumb. He couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“I trained with Shuichi and Harumaki last night,” Momota said, seemingly just to fill up the silence.

“Good for you? Why’re you telling me?”

“Shuichi asked how you were doing.”

Ouma’s mind went blank for a second.

“He did, huh... So?”

“Well… I tried to not give anything away, but… he's still going to find out eventually. You know how he is.”

“He won’t if I hide well enough.”

“Forever?” Momota asked skeptically.

Ouma lowered his head as he tried to avoid looking Momota in the eyes. “Who said anything about forever? I don't plan on sticking with you all. I just need to stay away from him for a few days and then finally leave you for good.”

There. He _had_ to react how, right? He could pretend to be patient all he wanted, but was still the same Momota who hit people left and right once they dared to do something he didn’t like. He had to lash out. Ouma deserved it, didn’t he? Yet, to his surprise, he only felt Momota gently pulling Ouma even closer to his embrace.

“No,” Momota finally said.

“Huh?”

“Even if the higher-ups let you do whatever you want, _I_ won't. I’ve made up my mind. I’m going wherever _you’re_ going so you don’t do anything that stupid ever again.”

Ouma bit his lip as he felt his eyes starting to tear up. Stupid Momota, not even knowing what he was getting into… Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…

“So,” Momota continued, “you’re not getting away from me _or_ your life that easily, got it? So, how about you stop all this nonsense and just come with the rest of us to the island?

“It’s not that simple, Momota-chan...”

“Then just let me help you, I don’t see the problem.”

“Geez, you _just don’t get it,”_ Ouma raised his voice, “You think I _like_ being like this? I don’t. But all of this is for the best. Trust me. You said you’d believe me, didn’t you?”

“Don’t try to guilt trip me into abandoning you. ‘For the best’? The best for who?”

“For everybody.”

“And how’s hurting yourself supposed to make anything better?”

“Again, you don’t get it. I’m not trying to make things _better,_ I’m trying to prevent them from getting _worse._ Much worse.”

“My question still stands.”

Ouma sighed. “I didn’t do it on a whim, you know. I’ve thought all of this through, Momota-chan. Dying was the best solution. But if I’m not allowed to die, then staying away from everyone as much as possible is the next best thing. Except _someone’s_ making that ‘staying away’ part really difficult.”

“Because it’s stupid. You’re not preventing anything, you’re just making yourself suffer for no goddamn reason.”

“I don’t want to hear about stupidity from a guy who spent most of his time alone with an assassin.”

“Hey, first of all, Shuichi was always with us too. Second, there’s nothing wrong with spending time with Harumaki. If you'd stop with your bias towards her then maybe you’d know that.”

Ouma lowered his eyes and clutched the thick purple fabric of Momota’s jacket harder in his hands. “She’s a monster, you know.”

“She’s not.”

“She is. She can hide it all she wants, it doesn’t change anything. She may think that it ‘doesn’t define her’, or that it ‘will help her protect people she loves’, but she’s still just a killing machine, y’know? It sleeps within her, waiting for a chance to run wild. And once it does, there’s no stopping it. Next thing you know, those people she swore to protect are dead. Dead by her own hands. How are you gonna feel when you’ll be lying on the ground with your throat slit by the person you blindly trusted so much, huh?”

“Ouma?” Momota asked as he carefully fixed a loose hair strand that was obscuring Ouma’s face. “Are you okay?”

“What? Of course I am, why’d you–” it took Ouma a moment to realize that tears started rolling down his cheeks.

“Ouma…”

“Shut up,” he said as he pushed Momota away and began to quickly rub his eyes with his sleeve. “That never happened. Neither did that whole conversation or anything that happened since you came. Now forget everything and leave me–”

“No.”

_“Huh?”_

“I said no. I’m not leaving you. I thought that maybe you needed time to sort your thoughts out, but I can see now that this isn’t going anywhere. Or, not going anywhere _good,_ at least. So, you’re gonna be even more stuck with me from now on. Congrats.”

“So what? Are you gonna sit here with me in this room all the time? You know your hyperactive ass won’t be able to take it.”

“Look who’s talking. You’re right, though. That’s why I _won’t_ sit here in this room. I’ll take _you_ along for the ride instead. You have to be sick of this room by now as well.”

“I can’t really walk, you know.”

“I know. That’s why I said that I’ll _take_ you _for a ride.”_

“Wait, what are you–”

Before Ouma could object, Momota grabbed him by his knees and shoulders and pulled closer to himself. Before Ouma knew it, he was in Momota’s arms, instinctively holding onto astronaut’s neck.

“Geez…” Ouma muttered, “Just how dumb _are_ you?”

“Dumb enough to care about you, apparently.”

“If anyone sees us like this, I’ll fucking murder you, I swear…”

“I’m used to vague death threats, you’ll have to try harder if you want to scare me.”

“I’ll… strangle you to knock you out and then stab you until you bleed out.”

“Better. But still not very threatening,” Momota shrugged. “You’ll have plenty of time to come up with a good one.”

“There’s no convincing you to leave me, huh?”

“Nope.”

Ouma sighed. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s go.”


	20. Chapter 20

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…

All Ouma had to do was to keep his sentimental bullshit to himself. But _no,_ he just _had to_ cling to Momota, provoke him, and then have a mental breakdown at the end to top it all off... Great job, Ouma Kokichi. Great job. 'Enjoy his time while he was too weak to do anything'? Yeah, right. There was no going back now. Now all he _could do_ was enjoy his time with Momota until everything inevitably came crashing down.

"Ouma?"

Not that... anything but that... not again... It was even worse than last time, too. Momota wasn’t even remotely at fault here. He was just a pure-hearted idiot who was only trying to help. This time, Ouma won’t have anyone to blame but himself...

"Hey, Ouma."

Why'd it have to be Momota? He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve any of this. He didn't even know what he’d just gotten himself into. Ouma wouldn’t be able to take it. If something were to happen to Momota, then-

"Ouma!"

A light tap on the shoulder pulled Ouma out of his daze. He found himself sitting at a kitchen table, staring down at a plate with a single piece of toast on it. Momota was sitting in a nearby chair with a concerned look on his face.

“You okay?” he asked. “You’ve been spacing out ever since we left your room.”

“Ah… yeah. I’m fine,” Ouma picked up the piece of bread off the plate. “This isn’t what you promised, you know.”

“Cooking is going to take too long. I’ll make you whatever you want for lunch, just eat _something_ for now. I don’t want you to starve any longer than you have to…”

“Stop worrying about me so much, geez…” Ouma said as he took a small bite. Warm. Crispy. Bread was supposed to taste ‘good’, right? Whatever that even meant.

Pretending to be able to taste was a drag… A drag that Ouma wasn’t used to. Maybe it would’ve been easier to just explain it to Momota, but that would probably cause the astronaut to pity him even more… Ouma was sick enough of his excessive concern as it was. Adding more reasons for Momota to feel sorry for him was the last thing he needed.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Momota said.

“I don’t like where this is going, but sure.”

“That eleventh DICE member you mentioned... he's dead, isn't he?”

Ouma almost choked on his toast. Sure, he expected, or maybe even hoped that Momota would eventually get it but hearing him say it out loud still caught him off-guard.

“Who knows?” Ouma shrugged. “He left DICE a long time ago, especially if you take the years of missing memories into account. I might be the last living DICE member for all I know.”

“Drop the bullshit. There’s no way he just ‘left’.”

Ouma sighed. “Since when are you not terrible at spotting lies? _Fine.”_ He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. “I'll tell you, just this once. But just so you know, I don’t like talking about this stuff. And also, this doesn’t mean that I’ll tell you anything as long as you beg me enough.” 

“So,” Ouma cleared his throat, “Usually gangs and such have their own little territory, right? A certain part of the city where they've settled and where they can do whatever they like and it's your own fault if you wander in by accident? Well, we didn't have that. We were moving, constantly. Spent a few days in one place, moved a few blocks, then eventually moved on to a new city entirely. We weren't even going anywhere, we just liked the feeling of freedom we got from it.

“It came at a cost, though. When you move as often as we did, you don't know anybody. And for a group like us, it's kind of important to know who we should avoid. Sometimes it's obvious. Something like, 'oh, there's a suspicious crowd wearing bright yellow, probably a gang, let's try to stay away from everyone who wears yellow while we're here'. But, it's not always that simple. Sometimes you mess with the wrong people by accident. Happens a lot, actually. But whatever, we could always just move again.

“But, this one time... we had to stay in one place for a bit longer than we expected. And it just happened to be one of those times when we _did_ mess with the wrong people. Got into a fight. One of us got unlucky, I guess. It was hard to understand what was even happening at the moment, but we found him dead after everything had already ended. He probably suffocated, from what I could tell. That's it.”

Wasn’t even a lie, technically. A lot got left out, but those were just details. Important details, but details nonetheless. Ouma told what he was asked.

“Suffocated?”

“End of story, Momota-chan.”

“Sorry...”

“You're the one who pulled it out of me, you know. Maybe next time don't make people talk about things that they don’t want to talk about.”

“But... why’d you have to stay there?”

“What did I _just_ say?” Ouma gave Momota an annoyed look.

“Ah, yeah. Right... Sorry.”

Ouma sighed. “You’ve changed, Momota-chan.”

“I have?”

“Yeah. You put up with me now. Somehow… for some reason…”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“I don’t know. You were just a nuisance back in the killing game. That’s how I always saw you, at least.”

“A nuisance?”

“Yeah. You were always loud and obnoxious, you never seemed to have anything of value to say, you kept slowing down the trials...”

“Wow, thanks.”

“And yet, you got all of Saihara-chan's attention. I... was somewhat jealous, I guess.”

“Oh yeah... you _were_ trying to flirt with him, weren't you?”

“No way. You'd have to be a complete idiot to fall for someone you barely know. My beloveds, Saihara-chan and Amami-chan... both of them just reminded me of a certain someone. That's all.”

Momota narrowed his eyes, seemingly thinking to himself. 

“You know...” Ouma continued, “These past few days, you started to remind me of him too. Guess that would make _you_ my beloved as well, wouldn’t it? Doesn't really feel right, though. Maybe I'm just deluding myself at this point.”

Ouma glanced at Momota, only to see him staring back with a confused and almost flustered expression.

“Like I said,” Ouma sighed, “I don’t _like_ like any of you. My beloveds _are_ special to me, but not in the way that you seem to think. So, don’t get your hopes too high.”

“What? I’m not…” his eyes frantically darted around the room. He was a terrible liar… “Whatever. So, this… this 'certain someone'. Was he, by any chance-”

“I told you enough,” Ouma interrupted. “Too much, even. If you want more, then use your head for once and figure things out on your own instead of waiting for others to give you all the answers.”

“How am I supposed to figure things out, if you're the only one with all the information, and all you ever give me are small snippets that are too vague to put them together into anything?”

“I _don't know.”_

Ouma couldn't even understand what he was trying to accomplish at this point. If Momota really was going to stay by Ouma's side from now on, then maybe it _would be_ better if he knew everything. Then he'd know what to expect, at least. As if that would change anything... Besides, even if Ouma wanted to, there's no way he could bring himself to tell Momota everything about what he's done. So, all he could do was hope that the astronaut would understand what Ouma was trying to prevent, somehow...

* * *

He 'didn't know'? _'Didn't know'?_ Then how was Momota supposed to know? What did Ouma even want him to do? Was Momota _supposed to_ figure this out, or supposed _not to?_ Everything was always so damn complicated with him...

But, fine. Momota was ready to play this little game. He wanted to figure everything out regardless of Ouma's wishes anyway. If he refused to give Momota any more info, then so be it. That just made everything _slightly_ more difficult. But not impossible. Nothing was impossible. Besides, maybe Ouma wasn't the only person here who knew something.

The kitchen door opened, and a soft raspy voice called out. Speak of the devil... "Momota-kun, good morning!" Komaeda said. "Ah, Ouma-kun, too? Feeling better? I'm glad..."

"Hey, Komaeda–"

"Komaeda-chan, morning!" Ouma exclaimed in a surprisingly lively and cheerful tone. "Yup, I'm _allll_ better now, thanks for stalking me the other day! Don't know _what_ I'd do without you... Oh wait, I wouldn't do anything, because I'd be _dead._ Like I _wanted to.”_

Ah. Right. Momota's already forgotten that _this_ was the 'normal' Ouma, and not the one who Momota was spending the last few days with.

“You're... welcome?” Komaeda glanced at Momota with a confused look, as if asking what he was supposed to say. Momota shrugged.

“But I guess 'stalking' is a bit harsh, isn't it? Maybe I shouldn't blame you for finding me so quickly. You're 'lucky', right? That's your thing? Man, I haven't heard a lie this lazy since my last trial. You should chat with Saihara-chan sometime, I think you’d get along nicely.”

“Are... you saying that I’m lying about my luck?”

“Oh wow, aren't you a smart one? Were you the one who carried all the trials, or was that the red-eye's job?”

“Ouma.” Momota tugged on his shoulder. “That’s enough.”

“Enough? I'm not even doing anything, Momota-chan.”

“Ouma-kun, I know that I didn't get a good chance to show you my luck, but I assure you that it's real. I wouldn't want to fake something like that.”

“Hmm, you _didn’t get a chance?_ Yeah, sure seems like that luck of yours is working. Yep.”

“Ouma…”

“It’s okay, Momota-kun. I know that something as vague as ‘being lucky’ doesn’t sound like a believable talent at first,” he laughed awkwardly. “Anyway… last night Hinata-kun, Naegi-kun and I discussed what we should do regarding… all that's happened.”

“Oh, right,” Momota said. “How’d it go?”

Komaeda folded his arms. “Well, basically…” he cautiously glanced at the supreme leader. “We’ve decided that Ouma-kun should stay with the group until his arm has fully healed. He can do whatever he wants after that.”

“Oh?” Ouma cocked his head to the side. “So that’s your excuse, huh? I smell bullshit. Come on, you’re not even _trying_ to make this believable. ‘Fully healed’? How ‘fully’ are we talking about here? You do realize that the scars will _never_ fully heal, right? I’ve seen my share of cuts, and this shit–” he pulled down his sleeve, exposing the bandages, “this shit’s here to stay. What you’re basically saying is that I should stick with you for life, right? Except you don’t want to admit that that’s what you’re saying, so you’re giving me a semblance of a choice that I don’t actually have and never will. Don’t you know that I hate liars? Yet, here you are, lying to my face.” 

“Ouma-kun, we…”

“Nishishi… Well, whatever. I was planning on coming along anyway,” he grinned. “This dumbass over here is dead set on stalking me as well, and I wouldn’t want to break his heart by separating him from his precious sidekicks.”

Momota sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He forgot how tiring the ‘normal’ Ouma was.

“Then, you don’t mind coming to the island?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ouma shrugged.

“And, Momota-kun?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m coming too.”

An excited smile stretched across Komaeda’s face. “Okay, then I’ll go tell Hinata-kun right away!” Thrilled, he hurried back to the door but stopped at the last second. “Ah, wait… Then, that means we’ll be leaving soon. All the preparations shouldn’t take long, a few hours at most. You two, get ready for that, okay?” With that said, Komaeda rushed out the door.

“What’d he even mean by that?” Momota muttered to himself. “Anyway, Ouma, what was all _that_ for?”

“Sorry…” he whispered, already back to his much less cheerful state. “You know how it is…”

“You know full well that I don’t.”

“That thing he said about ‘the preparations’…” he continued, ignoring Momota’s remark. “That means the others will be here in a few hours, right?”

“I guess? Anyway, don’t change the subject–”

“Lock me up again.”

“Huh?”

“Watch me all you want, I don’t care, just don’t drag me around with you.”

“I’m not gonna–”

_“Please.”_ Ouma reached out and almost desperately clutched Momota’s sleeve. “C’mon, Momota-chan… I’m begging you here. I don’t want them to see me like this…”

“Fine, I’ll… I’ll figure something out.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a bit longer than I expected, thanks for being patient with me~

Nuriko stared blankly at the sky above her. A few dark clouds were slowly creeping closer from the distance. The fall must’ve completely taken over the summer. It was about time. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be a problem sailing-vise. With Kamukura’s and Servant’s luck combined, it’d probably be fine.

The Servant… He ran by Nuriko earlier, and he looked unusually enthusiastic. Sure, he _always_ was too damn happy about everything, but this time he looked almost determined. If Nuriko had to guess, it probably meant that they’d be leaving soon. Finally. She couldn’t stand not doing anything for so long.

At least back when the Adventurer was watching her, she could annoy him all she wanted. Now, though… All she could do was sit outside and stare at the clouds all day. Nuriko thought that the Adventurer would go back to his guard duty once she ended the game, but to her surprise, he didn’t. Hinata didn’t watch her either. No one did. Really, she could just leave if she wanted to. Not that she had anywhere to go without Shirogane…

“Nuriko,” she heard Hinata call out from behind. “Got a minute?”

Nuriko leaned back until she could see the shell of the remnants’ ex-leader looking back at her. “You know exactly how much I have,” she said with a bored expression. “And something tells me that It’ll take you a bit longer than a minute to get rid of me.”

“Yeah, about that…” Hinata walked closer and sat down on the ground next to Nuriko. "We’re leaving today. We'll take you to the Hope's Peak. You'll be at the Future Foundation's mercy from there. Hopefully, they'll figure out what to do with you.”

“And Shiro-chan?”

“Stays with us for now. I’ll keep an eye on her and if she tries something even remotely suspicious, I’ll hand her over to the Foundation as well.”

Nuriko lowered her eyes. “...Thanks.”

“You're _thanking_ me?”

“Yeah. As long as Shiro-chan's safe, I don't care about anything else. Besides, I never expected to get out of this scot-free. I’m surprised you didn’t just kill me on the spot, really. And, Future Foundation? Hope boy’s rich buddy is leading it now, right? Then I’m sure it won’t be too bad.”

“Even then, they don’t exactly go easy on the remnants, you know.”

“I know. And I don't care. It doesn’t matter what happens to me.”

Hinata sighed. “Shirogane means a lot to you, huh?”

“You think?” Nuriko said with a sneer, before quickly switching to a much more thoughtful expression. “Well, yeah. She does. She's... like a sister to me. A sister that I wish I had. And when I'm with her, I get to be the sister that I always wanted to be.” 

“Wouldn't it be better to patch things up with your _actual_ sister?”

“A little too late for that, don’t you think? 'Patching things up' after I kidnapped her along with her classmates and forced them to kill each other in an endless loop might be just a tiny bit impossible. And that’s without me even mentioning all of the stuff I did that she can’t remember. Besides, we never got along in the first place. If we did, I wouldn’t be nearly as attached to Shiro-chan as I am now. Who knows, maybe none of this would’ve ever happened if that were the case.”

“Still... it feels wrong for you to just leave it like this.”

“What can I say? That's the despair way of doing things,” she shrugged. “While you, Enoshima, and the rest of the well-known remnants went out and actively spread despair, everyone else just sort of... went with the flow. We accepted whatever the world threw on us and learned to thrive from it. Well, ‘learned’ is a strong word. We _convinced_ ourselves that living in anarchy was better than what we had before. Maybe that was a delusion, but it was a comfortable delusion.”

“No, you didn’t ‘go with the flow’. You deliberately made your own killing game.”

“And it became my demise. _Such despair, am I right?_ Enoshima would’ve been proud. Except she wouldn’t because we remnants are too insignificant for her. ‘A god wouldn’t be comrades with one of their believers,’ is that what Shiro-chan said? That’s a pretty good way to put it, I think. Except…” Nuriko glanced at Hinata. “She wasn’t talking about Enoshima. She was talking about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. She likes you, you know. Not in a platonic or romantic way, in a worshipping kind of way. You’re her cool black-haired, red-eyed god who watches over her. So… I know I’m in no position to ask you any more than I already have, but treat Shiro-chan well when I'm gone, 'kay?”

“Wait, what are you even… Me, a god? Even as Kamukura, that’s way too exaggerated… And, despite all you said about how Shirogane is harmless, she’s still guilty. I’m not going to turn a blind eye to her just because you asked.”

“No, you misunderstood. I'm sure she'll behave. She never had in her to do anything threatening on her own. What I mean is... I’m worried about her. I know sister’s class will never forgive her for what happened. She might’ve fit in with the other ex-remnants, but… Fitting in was never a strong suit of hers. Even before the whole killing game thing.”

“I get that, but what do you want from me?”

“I want you to make sure she won’t feel like I abandoned her with a bunch of enemies. Be wary of her all you want, but don’t give her special treatment because she called herself a remnant. I don’t know, introduce her to someone you think she’ll get along with or something. She’ll be all alone otherwise. You know how those quiet people are…”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. It’s impossible to be alone on Jabberwock. People tried.”

“Hmm, I guess so,” she cocked her head to the side. “I was worried no one would approach her since she’s so plain compared to the rest of sister’s class, but… _you’re_ not alone, and you’re as plain as anyone can get, _reserve course student.”_

“If you’re going to try to insult me, at least be consistent.”

“That’d be _boring.”_

“Fine, that’s it,” Hinata rolled his eyes and stood up. “I’m done with you, we’re leaving in two hours, get ready for that.”

“Will do, artificial hope boy. Will do,” Nuriko dismissively waved her hand as she watched Hinata walk away without even glancing back at her.

Was he _trying_ to let her get away? 

* * *

Ouma sighed as he watched Momota pace back and forth on the ship deck, muttering something to himself.

“Give it a rest, Momota-chan. Just lock me up.”

“I’m not gonna do that. I said that I’d figure something out, and I will.”

“And I refuse to be seen by anyone when I’m this pathetic. Being seen by you and those two is bad enough already. I’m not gonna agree to anything _but_ locking me up, so you can stop thinking now. I know it’s hard for you.”

“How about instead of calling me dumb, you think too?”

“Give up, lock me up, forget any of this has ever happened and never talk to me again.”

“Hell no.”

“Yeah, thought so. Then I’m out of ideas,” Ouma shrugged. “What’d you expect, though? You knew we couldn’t have this whole ship to ourselves for long, and you knew that I’d stand you carrying me around _only_ as long as we were alone. You should’ve thought this through before you decided to ‘take me for a ride’ all of a sudden.”

“I wasn’t thinking about this back then.”

“How surprising.”

“Will you stop with all the salt already?”

“Why are you so dead set on _not_ locking me up, anyway?”

“Because it’s boring! Don’t you hate it? You’re the one who always goes on about how terrible boredom is. I’m trying to help _you,_ you know.”

“Is _that_ it?” Ouma rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Yes. I hate boredom. Great job remembering something I repeated a hundred times. But if something is boring that doesn’t mean that the alternative is better. Now, if you want to help me, then how about you just do as I say?”

“Shutting everyone out isn’t an answer.”

“Why not? It’s not like any of them want to see me anyway! They all hate me. I’ll stay out of their way and they’ll stay out of mine. It’s a perfect solution.”

“What about Shuichi?”

“Saihara-chan? What about him?”

“He’s worried about you too, you know.”

“He’s not. He’s just curious. Even if there was a chance that he forgave me for what happened to Gonta, there’s no way he doesn’t hate me after I took _you_ away from him. Just tell him I’m sick or something. He’s smart, he’ll understand that it’s a nice way of saying he’s not welcome here.”

Momota sighed and sat down next to Ouma. “You’re just scared of facing them, right? Shuichi and the rest?”

“I’m not,” Ouma said as he looked away. “I just don’t want to.”

“You basically just confirmed that you are.” Momota raised his arm a bit, inviting Ouma into a hug. “C’mere.”

“I told you it was a one-time thing…”

“Yeah-yeah, whatever. You need this.” He reached out and pulled Ouma closer. The smaller boy, while muttered something to himself, didn’t resist.

“If you just need time, that’s fine,” Momota said, gently stroking Ouma's hair. “But you’ll have to face them eventually. We all will be living together from now on. For a while at least and for the rest of our lives at most.”

“Shut up, I know that… ‘The rest of my life’ was supposed to be over already. Don’t make me think about the future, I didn’t plan for this…”

“…This isn’t like you.”

“Huh?”

“I mean… I thought you were always prepared for anything. Like that script you gave me? You really thought everything through, I didn’t even know something like that was possible.”

“Guess what I wasn’t prepared for. Being brought back from the dead after being squished between two blocks in a goddamn killing game simulator.”

“Well, yeah. No one could see that coming. But…” Momota absentmindedly rubbed Ouma’s bandaged wrist. “You had to realize that there was a chance you wouldn’t die the second time too. I just can’t believe you ‘didn’t plan’ for any of this.”

Ouma forced out a small sad chuckle. “I did realize. The whole time, I was hoping you’d come to save me. I just ignored all those thoughts and bet everything on that I wouldn’t fail. That was stupid, huh?” 

“You wanted me to save you?”

“I hate to admit it, but yeah. But… You’re also a major reason why I did it in the first place…”

“W-Wait, _what?”_

“It’s confusing. I’m just tired of making everything worse. I was trying to protect you, I think…” He groaned. “Don’t ask me to explain. I’m a mess, Momota-chan. I have no idea what I’m doing or even thinking anymore.”

“I…” Momota stuttered. “I don’t know what you’re thinking either, but… At least you realize and admit that you’re a mess right now. That means you can fix yourself. And I’ll be here to help you through this.”

Ouma’s lips stretched into a slight smile. “Hey, Momota-chan… How does it feel to be the reasonable one for once?”

“I’m always reasonable. And just so you know, I don’t think we have much time left. We have to decide on what we’re gonna do.”

Ouma chewed on his lip, thinking to himself. “Give me a day or two,” he finally said. “I’ll probably get better by then, so I don’t have to rely on you for walking, at least. I won’t agree to anything less than that. You still with me?”

“Fine,” Momota sighed. “But only for two days. _At most._ What next?”

“This should be obvious, but don’t tell the others about what I did. It doesn’t matter what you _do_ tell them, it’ll be an obvious lie anyway. As long as none of them figure out the truth, I don’t care. And don’t let anyone into my room, okay? Keep an eye on Saihara-chan, especially.”

“Anyone? What about Hinata and Komaeda?”

“Oh yeah, those two… Whatever, they can come. They know everything already anyway. And, one last thing…”

“Yeah?”

“You’re set on sticking with me, right? Then, there’s something you should… no, something you _have to_ know.”

“What is it?”

“I…” Ouma suddenly froze in place. He couldn’t say it. He wanted to, but his lips just wouldn’t move. But he had to tell Momota, who knows what could happen if he didn’t… No, Ouma knew _exactly_ what could happen, and he had to prevent it at any cost…

“Spill it out already.”

“Don’t… let your guard down,” he finally forced himself to say.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I used to post a chapter every week or less?
> 
> Yeah, me neither.

‘Don’t let your guard down.’ The hell was that supposed to mean?

Surely it must’ve been something important. Otherwise, Ouma wouldn’t say that it was something Momota _‘had to_ know’. But what was it? The way he phrased it, it sounded almost like a warning. If it was so important to him, a little indication of what Momota was supposed to watch out for would’ve been nice. Saying ‘don’t let your guard down’ was only a little bit better than saying nothing at all…

Dammit… Momota wasn’t getting anywhere. It was just too vague, he couldn’t do anything with that. Maybe it’d be better to let Ouma’s warning be for now and focus on something else. On something like the eleventh member. If he wasn’t the root of the problem, then he had to at least be somehow related to it. Maybe if Momota figured out what the deal was with him, everything else would just solve itself. At least, Momota hoped it’d be that easy… 

“I think they’re here…” Ouma mumbled, half-asleep on the bed, with his head on Momota’s lap.

Momota paid closer attention to the faint noises and, sure enough, heard the muffled voices and footsteps walking through one of the passageways next to Ouma’s bedroom.

“You should probably go see them,” he continued. “Just so no one gets any weird ideas…”

“What kind of ideas?”

“Like your sidekicks nosing around ‘cus they missed you too much after not seeing you for half a day.”

“And you’re not saying this just to get me to leave?”

“Why would I? It’s not like you’re going to leave for good. You’re too damn stubborn for that… Anyway, it’d be pointless. So just go already, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to deal with your harem, it’d be a pain…”

“I thought you stopped calling them a–” Momota sighed. “Fine, fine. I might as well go make something to eat while I’m at. Do you want anything specific?”

“Nah, as long as it’s spicy, I don’t care.”

“Okay. Try to get some sleep while I’m gone,” Momota lightly patted Ouma’s head before getting up.

“Mhm… Come back soon…”

* * *

‘Get some sleep’, huh? Easy for a carefree idiot to say. He probably didn’t even realize just how much Ouma needed him. At this point, Momota was one of the few things, if not the _only_ thing, that kept him sane.

“Then why’d you encourage him to go?” Ouma mumbled to himself.

He _had to._ People would get suspicious. It was fine for Ouma not to be around, but Momota? Or maybe Ouma was just lying to himself. Maybe he was trying to get Momota to leave, even if it was only temporary. The less time they spent together, the smaller the chance of either of them messing up, after all…

As Ouma was shifting into a more comfortable position, he noticed something hanging off the bed’s frame. Momota’s jacket. A bit reluctant, Ouma took it and clutched it to his chest. It still had a little bit of Momota’s warmth and scent…

Ouma put the jacket around his shoulders, trying to get as much of that precious heat as possible. It didn’t feel even remotely as good as Momota’s embrace, but at least this way Ouma could enjoy it without getting too embarrassed. He didn’t even know what he was so embarrassed _by._ Momota certainly didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he was the one who always pulled Ouma closer despite all of the smaller boy’s protests. Maybe Momota could tell how much Ouma actually liked cuddling with him.

‘Cuddling’. Ouma felt his cheeks heat up at the mere thought of that word. Geez… He buried his face in the bed sheets. Getting embarrassed by such dumb shit like some mid-pubescent kid was embarrassing in and of itself. But… it has been a while since Ouma felt this. In a way, he missed this feeling. It was a feeling from a simpler, calmer time. From a time when Ouma didn’t make everyone stay away from him just to suppress his fears. 

When Ouma thought about his situation like that, Momota just seemed like an anomaly. Someone who got through all of Ouma’s defenses with their willpower and stubbornness alone. Momota was special, but in a different way from how Ouma’s beloveds were special. He was more than that… 

“Goddamn idiot…” Ouma muttered to himself. “You just fall for whoever’s even a little bit kind to you, don’t you?”

* * *

Following everyone’s voices, Momota quickly found the crowd walking through the passageway. Hinata, Komaeda, Nuriko, and all of his classmates.

“Hey, everyone,” Momota said. “Long time no see.”

“Momota!” Harukawa ran up to him and gave him a hug.

“So, the dumbass is here,” Iruma said as she walked up to Momota. “Then where the fuck’s the shota hiding? Show me where he is so I can give him payback for what he did to me and Gonta!”

“Ouma-kun, he’s… not feeling well,” Momota said, already cursing himself for coming up with the vaguest, most suspicious excuse possible. “But if you just wanted to punch him or something, then calm down. I already did that.”

“Oh, so you want to keep him all to yourself, huh? So much that you’re covering for him? Well, aren’t you awfully chummy!”

“It’s not like that, Iruma.”

“So, are you two fuckbuddies or something?”

Flustered, Momota drew back before reminding himself that it was just Iruma being Iruma.

“Can you shut up already?” Harukawa gave Iruma a cold stare.

“W-What?” she timidly squirmed in place. “I’m just saying, it’s weird for anyone to be getting along with that shithead…”

“Come on, Iruma-san…” Kaede cut in. “Ouma-kun isn’t _that_ bad,” 

“Keh!” Iruma perked up. “Maybe to _you_ he’s not. What do you know, you weren’t even around to see half of the shit he’s done.”

“He tried to end the game,” Momota said. “Something most of you haven’t even tried.”

“Ending the killing by contributing to it? Yeah, great fucking idea. What a surprise it failed.”

“It worked out fine in the end, didn’t it?!”

“Yeah, only because Bakamatsu the Second over here was merciful enough to kill us a whole bunch of times instead of just once. And correct me if I’m wrong, which I’m not, but _none of us_ knew everything would work out this fucking nicely. I don’t know what the deal between you and the shota is, but don’t try to get the rest of us to feel sorry for that petty rat.” 

Momota silently clenched his fist, barely stopping himself from punching Iruma in the face. How dare her… Treating Ouma like some villainous scum, when she didn’t even know him… Sure, he messed up, but he was trying to save as many people as he could. If anything, it was Iruma’s fault for trying to kill him first...

“Is everybody done?” Hinata called out from the front of the crowd with a tired look on his face. “Can we go on now?”

“Ah, actually… I wanted to ask you two about something. Is that okay?”

“Sure?”

“No, I mean privately.”

Hinata and Komaeda glanced at each other, after which Hinata slightly nodded in Momota’s direction, and Komaeda stepped forward.

“Is only one of us going to be enough?”

“Yeah, I think…”

Komaeda nodded, walked up to Momota and led him into an off-the side passageway and from there, into a random empty bedroom.

“These are soundproof, so even if someone tries to listen in, they won’t be able to,” he explained. “So, what was it that you wanted to ask?”

“I just wanted to make sure… Is there anything that you haven’t told me about DICE?”

“DICE? I don’t think there is… You already know pretty much everything that’s been confirmed. Well, there might be some confidential information, but even Hinata-kun doesn’t have an access to that. All that’s left is just rumors.”

“Rumors?”

“Yeah. DICE is somewhat of an urban legend, so there’s a lot of theories and such about them. Stuff like… There were sightings of people who looked like DICE members all over Japan, apparently. Most people assume that means they had members all over the place. We, however, know for a fact that that wasn’t the case. So, either DICE was constantly moving, or those were copycats.”

“They _were_ moving. Ouma confirmed that.”

“Well, there you have it. If you want to know something about DICE, it’d be best to ask their leader.”

“I did, and he didn’t want to talk about it.” Momota rubbed the back of his head. “Say, those rumors… Was there anything about some big fight with another gang?”

“A fight?”

“Yeah. Apparently, a DICE member died in one, and it messed Ouma up really bad.”

“I… don’t think I heard anything like that. DICE were relatively peaceful. To get into a fight so big that people died… I’m pretty sure there’d be at least _some_ discussion of it if it was something so huge.”

“Huh… I see…”

“Was there anything else he mentioned?”

“There was, but… I don’t know how he’d feel about me telling you any more than I already have. I… don’t think he likes you very much. No offense.”

“Ah, no, that’s… understandable,” Komaeda smiled apologetically. “Then, going off what you told me… I don’t want to make you doubt Ouma-kun, especially now that you’ve gotten so close, but… Do you think that he could be exaggerating some things or that whole story could be a lie? I’m not saying that it is, I’m just saying that’s a possibility.”

Momota shook his head. “No. I want to trust him on this one. Everything he said _has to be_ true, I just know it. I gotta be missing something. Something important.”

“If you say so,” Komaeda shrugged. “I’ll see if I can dig up anything, but I wouldn’t count on it. If it’s something that you absolutely have to know, you’d be better off just asking Ouma-kun again.”

“So it all comes down to that… He barely tells me anything, though.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t want you to know about his past?”

“No, it’s more like… he _wants_ me to know, but he doesn’t want to tell. Or even… he can’t bring himself to tell me anything. I wonder why, though…”

“Well, let me know if I can be of help. Was that all?”

“Yeah. Thanks for hearing me out.”

Komaeda smiled softly. “It’s nothing, really…” He lightly chewed on his lip, thinking something over. “You know… Even if something isn’t technically a lie, if you frame it the right way, people will make the wrong conclusion. Especially if they themselves don’t know much about the subject matter. You just have to make them pay attention to the wrong things to distract them from what’s actually important.”

“H-Huh?”

“You know that trick where you ask someone a bunch of questions where the answer is ‘red’, then ask them which traffic light signal is ‘go’, and they accidentally say ‘red’ because that’s all they’re thinking about by that point? It’s kind of like that. They’re getting used to thinking in a specific context which you have full control over, and that leads them right into your trap.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Just something for you to think about. Maybe you’ve been going about all this the wrong way.” Komaeda’s thoughtful expression returned to his usual carefree smile. “Well, I’d better get going. Tell me if you need anything.”

With that said, Komaeda went out the door, leaving Momota alone with his thoughts.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay~ My brain refused to work on this chapter because it was too excited by what's coming in the next ones :3c

Momota closed the door behind him and headed down the passageway. If he remembered correctly, the kitchen should’ve been nearby. He really should focus on getting back to Ouma already. Sure, he didn’t leave him alone for _too_ long -it wasn’t nearly as bad as leaving him for the whole night- but still…

“Hey,” a familiar monotone voice called out from behind him.

Momota turned around to see Harukawa leaned on a wall, looking off to the side. How he missed her as he was walking past her was beyond him. “Hey,” he said. “You’re not with the rest?”

“They all went to do their own thing now,” Harukawa explained. She awkwardly messed with one of her twin tails for a bit, before finally looking up at Momota. “This talk with Komaeda… Was it about Ouma?”

“Well, yeah. It was.”

“Thought so,” she sighed. “How _is_ the brat, anyway?”

“He’s doing better, I think. Maybe? It’s hard to tell with him, really.”

“Well, keep an eye on him. Seems like quite a few people here aren’t too happy about having him around.”

“’A few?’ It’s not just Iruma?”

“Yumeno, Tojo, Chabashira… Kiibo too, even though he isn’t too vocal about it. But Iruma’s the loudest, for sure. Someone needs to shut her up before this whole mess gets out of control.”

“I’m guessing that ‘someone’ will have to be me?”

Harukawa shrugged. “I tried intimidating her, but it just doesn’t work anymore. I mean, it does, but only for a few moments. I also saw Komaeda talking to her, but I guess that didn’t work either.” She absentmindedly messed with her bangs. “Iruma’s just annoying, really. From what I can tell, she’s been like this ever since those two pulled her out of the simulation. She’s mad that she got killed, but she just got what was coming to her.”

“I know, right?” Momota almost went on a rant about how unfairly everyone’s been treating Ouma but stopped himself at the last second. “But really, I’m relieved. I was afraid that you’d join in on this stupid hate train.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I _do_ hate him. But ganging up on him like this… Maybe I would’ve understood them if this whole thing was happening back in the game, but right now, he isn’t even doing anything. It just feels wrong.” She lightly bit on her thumbnail as she thought to herself. “Or maybe it’s just my orphanage habits kicking back in now that I don’t see the brat as an enemy,” she finally sighed. “Besides, you obviously see something in him, whatever that is. So, I guess what I’m saying is, I’ll do my best to try to tolerate him a little more.”

Momota’s eyes lit up. “Thanks, Harumaki,” he said, pulling her into a hug.

“Whatever…” she muttered as she pushed him right back. “Furthermore, I’m guessing that soon Saihara and I will start seeing him a lot more often, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you going to force him to be your sidekick too?”

“Ah, that, uh, I mean–” Momota stuttered. “I was thinking about that, but, y’know, I don’t think he’s going to like being called a sidekick, especially _my_ sidekick…”

“Didn’t bother you when I didn’t like it.”

“But wait, you won’t mind if he joins?”

“Well, sure, I’d like for everything to go back the way it was with just the three of us, but that’s not an option, right? If Ouma doesn’t join, then you’ll just spend time with him separately, like you’re doing now. But if all four of us are together, then at least he won’t have you all to himself...”

“Wait, Harumaki. Are you jealous?”

Bright pink blush stretched across Harukawa’s face. “S-so what if I am?” she said, averting her eyes. “You know… I may have gotten too emotional back in the simulation, but everything I said about… falling for you is still true.” She turned away and began to anxiously tug on her hair. “I was so happy to see you alive and well, I thought that nothing could ruin this, but now you’re always with him… And even when you’re not, he’s still everything you think about. It’s like we don’t exist for you anymore.”

“Harumaki…”

“I _know_ that I’m being childish and stupid, and I _know_ that right now Ouma probably needs you more than I do, but… Seeing the person you love care so much about someone you hate… It hurts.”

“Sorry…”

“Whatever…I’ll get over it…” she rubbed her eyes with her wrist. “I’ll try not to accidentally take it out on him. He probably doesn’t even have anything to do with you helping him. Knowing you, you probably just decided that Ouma needed you and he had no choice but to accept it…” Harukawa took a deep breath and looked at Momota with damp, slightly red eyes. “You just can’t help but go after the pathetic ones, can you?” she asked with a sad obviously forced smile. “Just don’t forget about me and Saihara, okay?”

She quickly hugged Momota once more and walked away without even glancing back, as if she was trying to hide her face.

* * *

Kaede nervously bit her lip as she fidgeted with the key in her hands. Maybe she should’ve asked Saihara to come along, for moral support if nothing else…

She slapped herself in the face, trying to make herself focus. No, she’s been relying on Saihara too much already. Confronting her twin was _her_ problem, and hers alone. She had to deal with it on her own.

Kaede lifted her head and looked at the bedroom door in front of her. The bedroom that now served as a makeshift cell for Nuriko. She forced herself to stop overthinking and stepped forward, sticking the key into the keyhole and entering the dark, near-obstructed room.

“Ah, Kae-chan,” Nuriko’s voice welcomed her almost instantly. “Have you finally stopped sulking and came to play with your little sister? How thoughtful of you.”

Kaede heard the door close behind her, before someone pushed her back, making her fall over.

“I missed you, Kae-chan,” Nuriko purred as she rolled her twin onto her back and climbed on top, pinning her to the floor. “When the two traitors showed up, I was somewhat excited,” she continued as she covered Kaede’s mouth with her cuffed hands. “Because even though I lost, I looked forward to spending time with you. Oh, all the ways I could’ve messed with you and your silly ego…” Nuriko’s expression darkened. “What a disappointment that turned out to be, huh? You never talked to me, you never looked at me… I’m hurt, honestly…” She let out an overdramatic sigh.

“But you know,” Nuriko’s eyes showed a hint of excitement, “This Hinata guy is a bit _too_ trusting, don’t you think? He’s the one who gave you the key, right? He let you in here with no supervision, and now look how easily I got the upper hand on you. If I just moved my hands a bit, I could choke you with the very handcuffs he put on me to protect all of you,” she leaned forward, her hands slowly creeping lower. Yet, as soon as the cold handcuff chain touched Kaede’s neck, Nuriko stopped and sighed. “As if I would actually do it…” She stood up and walked to the wall. “You could’ve at least _tried_ to protect yourself, you know. For fuck’s sake…” she grunted as she flicked the lights back on. “You’re still no fun. And here I thought you’d at least entertain me for the last time…”

“Why’d you do it?” Kaede asked, getting back up.

“To scare you, duh. You’ve been so boring and apathetic all this time, it’s been killing me. What’d you think I was gonna do?”

“No, I…”

“Don’t get me wrong, Kae-chan. I _could’ve_ actually strangled you. The fact that you’re my sister doesn’t bother me. If anything, out of our entire family, I wanted to kill you most. The only reason why I didn’t is because I don’t want Shiro-chan to get in any more trouble because of me.”

“I didn’t mean just now! I meant _all_ of this. The killing game. Why did you do all of this?”

Nuriko shrugged. “Shiro-chan came up with the whole thing, you know. I only helped to bring it to life. Go to her if you want answers. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you. Obsessive fangirls don’t really need a motive to indulge in their obsession.”

“Was there _nothing_ in it for you? Who even _is_ Shirogane-san to you?!”

“Just some rookie remnant I looked after because she would’ve been eaten alive otherwise. No one too important, really.”

“Then why does everything you do come down to her?”

Nuriko clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Don’t know. I have _no idea_ why I would care for the only person in my life that’s ever treated me as something better than a mild annoyance.”

“What are you even saying? We never treated you as a–”

“If I wasn’t an annoyance, then what was I? Nothing at all? Surely if I meant _something_ to you you’d at least think of me sometimes. I didn’t erase your memories of me, you know. Well, other than the obvious stuff that _had to be_ erased. Yet, for some reason, you never mentioned me. Across all loops, a few of which you survived all the way through, not even once. Not to the Adventurer, not to the Anthropologist, not even to your precious boyfriend.”

“Is that it? Just because I didn’t mention you doesn’t mean that–”

“That’s not my reason for doing any of this, obviously. This is just to prove a point. But… I guess it’s not your fault you don’t ever think of me. We didn’t even live together, after all. It’s not your fault that our parents chose you. It’s not your fault that you just happened to be the talented one. Not your fault that you turned out better than your failure of a twin in every. Single. Way.”

“Who said _anything_ about–”

“Hey, Kae-chan.”

_“Stop_ interrupting me!”

Nuriko narrowed her eyes, giving Kaede a sly look. “Hey, Kae-chan. Do you know how painful it is to have your nails torn out one by one?”

“What?! Of course I don’t, what does that–”

“Oh hey, neither do I. Wanna know who _does_ know? Your mom.”

Kaede’s mind went blank. “Was… simply killing them not enough for you?” she muttered, clutching her fists so hard her nails almost pierced her skin.

“Oh, come on,” Nuriko whined with the fakest, most condescending grin on her face. “I didn’t see them in a while and I missed them. Can you blame me for wanting to spend some quality time with my dearest mom and dad?”

“You make me sick.”

“Hey, you’re the one who barged in here. If I’m so disgusting, you’re free to leave.”

“I hate you.”

“Really? I hate you too, what a coincidence! We have so much in common!”

“You ruined everyone’s lives, don’t you get it? What made you think that you had the right to do that?!”

“Oh? ‘Ruined’? Maybe I’m missing something here, but from what I’ve gathered, you get to _enjoy_ the rest of your lives doing whatever the fuck you want on a faraway island, and all you had to do was endure the despair for a little bit, most of which you’ve forgotten anyway! ‘Ruined’ is a bit harsh, don’t you think? I’d argue that quite a few lives got improved. But just because a few people you knew died you accuse me of such terrible things… I had no idea my twin grew up to be such a selfish brat.”

Unable to control her anger, Kaede slapped Nuriko across her face.

“Oh my, oh my…” she said, touching her now reddish cheek with her fingers. “Did no one teach you not to pick on the little ones? Guess our parents sucked at parenting. Good. Makes me feel even less guilty.”

“I thought…” Kaede muttered. “I thought maybe we all missed something. Maybe there was some reason why you’d do all of this. I can see now that there wasn’t. You’re irredeemable. Unforgivable. I hope I’ll never see your face again.”

“You do realize that we have the same face, right?”

“Shut up. Whatever happens to you… I hope it’ll be something you deserve.”

“Are you saying that you hope that I’ll be killed, Kae-chan?” Nuriko cocked her head to the side.

Kaede averted her eyes, still breathing heavily from anger. “…Maybe.” She turned around and left the room without giving Nuriko a chance to say another word.

Kaede angrily shut the door behind her, locked it, and, finally, sighed in relief as she buried her face in her hands. Everything was fine. It was over. Nuriko was a freak that just happened to be related to Kaede. No more than that. And now, Kaede would never have to see her again.

She shook her head, looked at the door for the last time and made her way down the passageway. The hell everyone’s been going through was at its end. Things could only get better from now on.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c

Momota eyed the plate of freshly-made curry rice in his hands as he hesitated in front of the bedroom door. Would Ouma even like it? It wasn’t exactly the spiciest thing in the world, but it was the best he could manage with what he had. Maybe Momota should’ve asked Tojo for help, or advice, or pretty much anything to cover for his mediocre skills…

Well, not like there was a point in thinking about it after everything’s been done already. Momota unlocked the door and confidently walked in.

“I’m back,” he called.

Ouma flinched, clearly startled by Momota’s arrival. He frantically threw off Momota’s jacket that he had around his shoulders, probably hoping that the astronaut himself hadn’t noticed.

“Like my jacket?” Momota asked, smiling to himself.

“I just got cold, okay?” Ouma muttered, visibly flustered.

Momota couldn’t help but grin at Ouma’s attempts to hide his embarrassment by hyper-focusing on messing with his hair and staring off at a wall. He could be surprisingly cute at times.

“Here,” Momota said, passing Ouma the plate. He reluctantly took it and immediately stuffed his mouth full of food.

“I know it’s nowhere near Tojo’s level, but–”

“It’s good,” Ouma interrupted as he licked his lips trying to get every last drop of the curry. “It’s really, _really_ good.”

“Are you just lying to make fun of me?”

“No, I mean it,” Ouma gave Momota a serious look before fully immersing himself in eating once again. 

“If you say so,” Momota shrugged, still not fully convinced.

In a couple of minutes, Ouma had already finished and put his plate on the bedside table.

“Hey, I didn’t wake you up when I came in, did I?” Momota asked, suddenly realizing that he probably shouldn’t have barged in like that.

Ouma shook his head.

“I told you to get some sleep…”

“I know, I know, it’s just… I get nightmares without you…” he mumbled, the last few words dissipating into a barely intelligible mess.

“So you tried to replace me with my jacket?”

“Drop that already, will you?” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Momota laughed. “You can keep it if you want to.”

“And why would I even want your stupid jacket, use your goddamn brain a little before you speak, geez…” Ouma muttered, staring down at his feet. He bit his lip as if he desperately wanted to add something but stopped himself. Finally, he raised his eyes, looking at Momota timidly. “You’d let me have it?”

“Well, yeah, why not? It’s just a jacket.”

“I guess… Just feels weird to take it from you like that…” Ouma’s eyes darted from side to side as if he was thinking something over. He reached behind his neck and untied the knot on his scarf. “Here,” he offered it to Momota. “We’ll trade.”

“Whoa, hold on,” Momota looked at the scarf with concern. “My jacket’s one thing, but isn’t this like a symbol of your organization?”

“Yep, it is. So?”

“So? I’m asking if it’s okay for me to have this.”

“It’s not some religious or cultural thing, calm down. You’re overthinking this, Momota-chan.”

“Still…”

“I’m the leader, aren’t I? And I say that it’s fine, so take it. But…” Ouma looked at Momota with a sly smirk, “If you’re _that_ worried about it, you could just join DICE. Then it wouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“U-Uhh…” Momota’s brain desperately tried to figure out how that would work if he did decide to make Ouma his sidekick.

“I’m kidding, geez…” Ouma sighed. “If you didn’t want to join, you could just say so instead of freezing up on me like that…”

“No, that’s not it, I just–”

“Whatever, just take it already.” Ouma rolled the scarf into a ball and lazily threw it in Momota’s direction, accidentally hitting him in the face in the process.

“Why, you little–” he jokingly pushed Ouma’s shoulder, making him fall over onto the bed.

_“Wow,_ Momota-chan,” Ouma giggled. “I see you’re _that_ desperate to get into bed with me, huh?”

“Dude, shut up,” Momota laughed along as he laid down next to him.

Their eyes met, catching Momota a bit off-guard at first. Ouma’s gaze… It finally had at least some semblance of life in it. His laugh, too…. Not some fake ‘nishishi’ or overdramatic villainous bullshit, but genuine joyful laughter. Momota didn’t even realize how long it’s been since he’s heard it coming from Ouma. Has he ever heard it at all?

Ouma carefully cupped Momota’s cheek, interrupting astronaut’s thoughts. “Maybe…” he muttered, still looking in the other’s eyes, “maybe you could be my beloved after all…”

“Go to sleep already,” Momota said, throwing the covers over Ouma’s head. “Before you say something stupid, get embarrassed by it and then start avoiding me for some dumbass reason you yourself made up.”

Ouma laughed from underneath the covers. “Yeah,” he said, getting his head out and curling up closer to Momota. “I should probably do that… You’re not gonna wait ‘til I fall asleep and then leave, are you?”

“I won’t.”

“I might not wake up until morning.”

“I know.”

“You’re gonna be bored.”

“I know that too.”

“You’re gonna miss out on your sidekick workout thing.”

“Stop trying to get rid of me.”

“Fine, fine,” Ouma mumbled, half-asleep already. In what felt like just a few moments, his breathing became slower and deeper as he dozed off.

Poor thing. He must’ve been exhausted after forcing himself to stay awake for so long. Momota carefully ran his hand through Ouma’s hair, making him shiver in his sleep and snuggle closer.

Adorable.

Seeing him like this, Momota couldn’t even begin to understand how anyone could think of Ouma as a threat. If anything, everyone else was a threat to _him._ But it was okay now. Momota would be there to protect him. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt Ouma any longer.

Without really thinking what he was doing, Momota gently kissed Ouma on the forehead.

* * *

Ouma found himself sitting on the steps to some abandoned mid-construction building that DICE’s been using as a hideout at the moment. He poked around in the dust with a random stick, until a sudden gust of wind blew most of away, almost getting all of it in Ouma’s eyes in the process. With an annoyed sigh, he threw the stick away.

Most of the members were asleep by now. So what the hell was taking the last one so long to come back? Ouma kept telling him that staying out late was dangerous, especially alone… He never seemed to care, though. Geez…

Another gust made Ouma pull his scarf up to his nose. It was getting colder, too… It had to be around the middle of October already. It was probably roughly the time they should start moving south. Well, moving _anywhere,_ really. Ouma would have left that very evening if _someone_ didn’t decide to disappear all of a sudden.

The silence was broken by the sound of the stick being snapped in two, making Ouma reflexively jump off the steps, get into a fighting stance and pull the knife out of his pocket. All that tension, though, was quickly released as soon as he recognized a tall lean figure in the DICE uniform that was slowly approaching the hideout. The figure’s light blonde hair, gathered into a ponytail and secured with a couple of colorful hairpins, was blowing in the chilly evening breeze. He smiled as soon as he saw Ouma waving at him, yet his pastel green eyes seemed somewhat disappointed.

“Shio-chan!” Ouma called, running up to his precious member and pulling him into a hug.

“I thought you'd be sleeping already,” he said, patting Ouma on the head. “It's late.”

“How could I be sleeping when you went out so late without telling anyone?” Ouma snapped, letting go of Shio. “We agreed to never go alone, didn’t we?”

“Still… It’s not a rule.”

“Without your mask, no less… What if someone saw your face? What if one of _them_ saw your face? I heard them talking, you were one of ‘the promising’ ones. They _have_ to remember what you look like…”

“I don’t like the masks. They look stupid,” Shio said as he continued to walk towards the DICE hideout.

“Shio-chan…” Ouma whined. “I was worried… You’re always somewhere by yourself. You could’ve at least told me where you were going…”

“Sorry, sorry,” Shio stopped and kissed Ouma on the forehead. “I just went to look for food for a bit, that's all.”

Ouma sighed. “Any luck?”

“Found this,” Shio pulled a tin can out of his scarf and handed it to Ouma. The label was completely ripped off.

“What’s this?”

“Canned meat, probably,” Shio shrugged.

“Where'd you find this, even?”

“In a dump behind some convenience store.”

“They threw out a single unopened can without a label?” Ouma asked as he continued to twist the can in his hands. “It’s not even expired. Why would they throw it away?”

“I'm just as clueless as you are. But hey, food's food, right?”

“I guess...” They _were_ getting low on supplies, especially considering they’d have to move soon, but it’s not like this one small can would make much of a difference. For one person, maybe it’d be enough for a day, but even that was a stretch. For eleven people, though…

No, it was fine. Ouma could work with this. If they left tomorrow morning, then they could reach the next city by nightfall, maybe even earlier. Yeah. Then they’d just search the dumps there. Everything was fine.

Though… Was it a good idea to stay in the next city any longer than just for a few hours to sleep? Maybe it’d be better to walk for five, ten days with as few stops as possible? Yeah, that was probably a safer bet. Ouma had to keep in mind all of the last years’ routes too… They haven’t followed the north shore yet, so was it safer to go with it this time or safer to _not_ go with it, since it was pretty much the only route they haven’t traveled yet and it was easily predictable? Or should he go with the shore route _because_ it’s so obvious? How many layers of reverse psychology was too many?

No, no use thinking about it now. They already reached the shore, turning back now would just be a waste of time. Food was the primary concern. Ouma could go on nothing but water for a couple of days no problem, so stretching that to five days shouldn’t be _too_ difficult…

“Kokichi,” Shio lightly poked Ouma on the nose.

“What?”

“Think of yourself too.”

“Huh?”

“I can just _see_ you calculating how much you can starve yourself for our sake.”

“I don’t starve myself. I just eat less because I only do it to survive.”

“So are the rest of us, geez... You think any of this canned stuff tastes good? If anything, you're at an advantage by not tasting this crap.”

“Still…”

“This is why you don't grow,” Shio nagged, ruffling Ouma’s hair. “You're too focused on the rest of us and because of that my beloved is gonna look like a middle schooler all his life.”

“Hey, I _am_ growing! Just... slowly.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Shio hugged Ouma from behind and gently nuzzled his neck. “But you really should watch yourself more. You’re our leader, after all. We won't be able to go on if something happens to you.”

“C-C’mon, Shio-chan…” Ouma lowered his eyes. “You’re exaggerating... I'm not even doing all that much.”

“You are,” Shio kissed Ouma on the temple. You're a great leader, Kokichi. We wouldn't be here without you. Literally.”

Ouma lowered his eyes. Shio was right. Ouma was the one who’s gotten everyone involved in this mess because he was too afraid of running by himself. Maybe he was right in taking ‘the promising’ Shio along with him, maybe a few others… But their whole group? Most of them might’ve had a much better life if they just stayed behind…

“Anyway...” Shio sat down on the hideout’s steps. “What's the plan for tomorrow, leader?”

“Ah, right,” Ouma said as he stopped thinking about unnecessary things and sat next to his beloved. “We move. First thing in the morning.”

“Oh.” Shio seemed to have been caught off-guard. “You sure?”

“Yes. We’ve been here too long already.”

“We can wait a few more days. Moving too often would be even riskier than staying settled for too long.”

Ouma nervously bit his lip. “No, we have to go. I have a bad feeling about staying here.”

Shio averted his eyes. “Say, Kokichi… Do you ever think that… Maybe all of this has been useless? That maybe we were never followed to begin with?”

“I…” Ouma paused. “I don’t know.”

“I mean, think about it. We’re just a bunch of runaway kids. Not the first, not the last, right?”

“We know what they’ve been doing, though…” 

“And I’m sure we’re not the only ones. And even if they were following us at first… We’ve been running for years. They must’ve given up on us by now.”

“I see your point, Shio-chan, but…” Ouma tensely clutched his scarf. “If they do follow us and if they do catch us, then it’s game over. They’ll either kill us or put us back, and I don’t know if we’ll be able to escape again.” He shuddered from even thinking about it. “I don’t care if I have to run my whole life. I’m not going back.”

“So we’ll keep running?”

“Yeah,” Ouma muttered. “About that, though… However you look at it, there’s not enough food for everyone. Maybe we’ll manage to get some on our way, but it’s better not to count on it. And even if I don’t eat at all, we’re barely scraping by.”

“It’s okay, Kokichi,” Shio lovingly wrapped his arms around his beloved’s waist. “We’ve been through worse. We’ll figure something out.” After a bit of silence, he sighed. “If someone has to starve, let it be me.”

“No, Shio-chan,” Ouma protested. “You’re, like, most of DICE’s muscle. If there’s one person who absolutely cannot starve, it’s you.”

“So what? You’re both our leader _and_ our brain, yet you don’t have a problem with torturing yourself.”

“This isn’t even torture, you know I’ve been through far worse, Shio-chan.”

The two glared at each other until Shio finally gave in.

“No good, huh?” he sighed. “Well, you’re our leader for a reason, Kokichi. Even if that reason is just because you out-stubborn all of us.”

“That’s not the reason and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Shio ruffled Ouma’s hair. “Just do what you think is right, and I’ll follow you to hell and back.”

Ouma’s lips stretched in a grateful smile.

“Well, let’s turn in for the night,” Shio stood up and pulled Ouma’s hand. “We’ll have a long day tomorrow.”

“Yeah… sure.”

* * *

With a quiet grunt, Ouma opened his eyes.

“Morning,” Momota said, fixing a messy strand of hair that fell on Ouma’s face.

“Morning… So I did sleep through the day, huh?” Ouma lowered his eyes and bit his lip, seemingly thinking something to himself. “Hey, Momota-chan? Can you… call me by my first name again?”

“Kokichi.”

Ouma sighed. “Nope, still hate it. Forget I said anything.”

“Kichi.”

A bright pink blush stretched across Ouma’s cheeks, making him bury his face in Momota’s chest to hide it. “Y-Yeah…” he muttered. “Let’s… go with that.”


	25. Chapter 25

The ship stopped. That’s what it felt like, at least. Nuriko got off her bed and opened the curtains. Indeed. What she saw was a city covered in a morning fog. It would have been a welcome change after spending months alone in abandoned ruins if it wasn’t for the uncertainty that Nuriko would have to face sooner than she would’ve liked.

As she was about to close the curtain, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the silhouette of Hope’s Peak in the distance, new and rebuilt, towering over buildings. Just a glance was enough to make Nuriko’s head start pulsing in fear. She shut the curtain sat and back on the bed, curling into a ball.

It was fine. Everything was fine. None of this mattered. Nuriko was expendable. Shirogane was the priority, and she was safe. That was the important thing. That’s what she’s been telling herself all this time. But then, why couldn’t she stop shaking?

With a loud click, the door opened, revealing Hinata standing in the passageway.

“We’re here. Get out.”

Nuriko could tell that something was different. Hinata’s tone of voice, his cold annoyed glare, even his posture – everything about him felt intimidating, yet somewhat familiar and comforting. She couldn’t bring herself to even attempt to resist. All she could do was get up and obediently follow Hinata without saying a word.

For a while, the two walked in silence. Nuriko couldn’t help but stare at Hinata’s back. Somehow, it felt strange to see him this up close. But why? She’d seen him every day for weeks now, so why did he give off such a different impression now all of a sudden?

“You could have escaped,” Hinata said. “Why did you stay?”

“Huh? You mean that _was_ intentional, and you didn’t just forget about me? You’re weird.” She rubbed the back of her head. “I guess… since I already got you to look after Shiro-chan for me, I don’t really care about what happens next. Might as well play along. Besides, it’s not like I’d have anywhere to go if I escaped. The remnants are so few and far between by now that they might as well be nonexistent, and I was getting tired of all of this myself… So, there you go. Now you tell me why you were willing to let me go.”

Silence.

“Hey, Kamukura.”

As soon as Nuriko said that, a sudden realization hit her. That was it. The tone, the glares, the way Hinata moved – everything was exactly the same as Kamukura’s. The change was subtle, but it was there.

“Kamukura,” she called out once again. “Kamukura! You’re _actually_ Kamukura, aren’t you?”

“I told you. I am both.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” Nuriko said as she ran ahead of Hinata to take another look at his eyes. Or, rather, at one of his eyes. Crimson red, bright and absolutely perfect, it glared down on Nuriko, sending chills down her spine with every passing second. “It _is_ you…” she muttered, taking a few steps back in awe. “You were here…” she let out a couple of nervous laughs. “You were here all along, yet you wait until I’m almost gone to show yourself? You’re cruel…”

Hinata– no, Kamukura waited for Nuriko to stop talking and then simply began walking forward again.

“Hey, Kamukura,” Nuriko said after catching up to him. “Did you let me go because you wanted me to bring more despair? Did you? If you did, then–”

“I don’t care about that.”

“Then… why?”

“Not sure. You would have to ask the other one.”

Nuriko squinted her eyes at Kamukura. “Can you talk normally?”

He sighed. “Hinata-kun and I switch control over the body. While one is in control, the other can’t do anything. Hinata-kun’s the one who wanted to let you go. He didn’t discuss it with me, so I don’t know what he was thinking.”

“You don’t share memories or anything? Whatever… If you don’t know, just make him come out.”

“If I could, then I wouldn’t be here right now. I can’t reach him right now. He didn’t warn me about switching with me, either.”

“Is that just something that happens, or…”

“More or less. He’ll come back eventually.”

Eventually, huh? As if Nuriko had enough time to wait for ‘eventually’…

“If I were to guess,” Kamukura said, “he did not see you as a threat anymore.”

_“Huh?_ Me? Not a threat? Wanna run that one by me again? I’m the reason you’re all here, you know! Do you have any idea how many I’ve killed? If I’m not a threat, then care to explain why I’m not allowed to move my hands separately?” she angrily rattled her handcuffs.

“Didn’t you say that you were tired of this? Then there are no more reasons for you to go on. Your revenge’s over regardless, and Shirogane-san’s safe. You got what you wanted.”

Nuriko only growled quietly in response.

“That’s my assumption, at least. I don’t know his actual reasoning. All I know is that Hinata-kun was very hesitant about handing you over to the Future Foundation.”

Nuriko perked her head up. “He was?”

Kamukura nodded. “Nobody knows what to do with you yet. As such, sentencing you to death is still very much a possibility. I can tell that Hinata-kun doesn’t want that.”

But why? It didn’t make any sense. Even if she _was_ sentenced to death, wasn’t it what she deserved? She didn’t get involved with despair expecting to live a long life.

“Hinata-kun!” someone called out from behind.

The two turned around to see out of breath Amami running up to them. 

“Can I talk to Nuriko-san for a bit?” he asked after finally catching up.

Nuriko’s eyes sparkled. Sure, she was glad to get any excuse to delay her doom, but for Amami of all people to show up? Must’ve been her lucky day.

She didn’t even realize how much she’d missed messing with the Adventurer.

Kamukura looked at him in silence for a few seconds before shrugging and continuing to walk forward. “I’ll be up ahead,” he said. “Don’t take too long.”

Nuriko followed him with her eyes, then turned to Amami. “What?” she hissed. “You recovered from the last time so you came for some more?”

Great job, great fucking job. She hasn’t talked to Amami in days, and now, the last time they’d ever see each other, she started off with the usual bitching. Wonderful.

“No, I wanted to confirm something. I wanted to for a while.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Back then, what you said about my sister… was that true?”

Nuriko rolled her eyes. “I said that I don’t know if that was your sister or not. You two just look sort of similar.”

“Answer me.”

“Fine, fine,” Nuriko let out an overdramatic sigh as she sat down on the passageway floor. “I didn’t kill her. There was no way I would’ve remembered her if that was the case.”

“Then what’d you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, relax. She was a remnant I knew. We weren’t friends or anything, she never even told me her name. I just ran into her enough times to remember what she looked like.” Nuriko tapped her fingers on the floor, thinking to herself. “No, calling her a remnant wouldn’t be right.”

“Huh?”

“Remnants are the Ultimate Despairs that remained after Enoshima’s death, right? Well, I only saw her at the very beginning of the Tragedy.”

“What does it matter?”

“You don’t know? It should matter _a lot_ to you if you’re so concerned that girl.” Nuriko pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her head on her knees, leering up at Amami. “Has anyone told you about the mass-suicide?”

Amami looked back at her with uneasy eyes.

“They haven’t? Really? For fuck’s sake, Kamukura, I know you tried to keep the story brief, but this was a big deal…” Nuriko sighed in disappointment. “So. Basically. Enoshima’s death was a suicide, you know that much, right? Well, after she died, a lot of Despairs followed in her footsteps. Not completely, it was kind of hard to go out with the same bang as she did, but you get the idea. A lot of Despairs died, and I mean a lot. What remained was a minority. Less than half. Not even fifty percent. You see where I’m going with this?”

“What you’re saying is, if you only saw her in the beginning…”

“…She’s dead, more likely than not. Not by my hands, though.”

“I… I see…” Amami muttered with obvious disappointment in his voice.

“Is that all?” Nuriko asked, getting up from the floor.

“No, one more thing. Can I ask what that motive video was?”

Nuriko cocked her head to the side. “Oh yeah, you don’t remember yours, do you?”

“I never saw it. I died first, remember?”

“No, no, you saw it. In the previous loops. We used this motive a whole bunch of times. It was too much of a pain to film to use it only once… It was all real, too. We didn’t even use Shiro-chan’s cosplay. It was such a pain that I just wanted to get it over with ASAP. Didn’t even bother to clean everything up after each one…”

“Get to the point alread– wait. You mean ‘clean up’ as in getting rid of the bodies, or…”

“Pfft, why would I bother with that? We kidnapped an entire class from _the_ Hope’s Peak Academy, we weren’t exactly being sneaky. What I mean is that I left everything as it was right after filming.”

“Then is everyone still alive?”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself there, Survivor. I didn’t kill, but I still left a bunch of people either on a raft in the middle of the ocean, locked in a cage, surrounded by electric wires with water running from upstairs, or just generally bleeding. Do I need to go on?”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. So _maybe_ someone survived, but I’m not too sure about that.” Nuriko raised her hands up to her mouth as she remembered something. “No, wait…” she muttered. “I did kill two, I think… It was at the very end, so I was already tired of this whole filming thing and they really pissed me off, so I beat them up. I didn’t _really_ mean to kill them, but I guess that was too much for them.”

“Who were they?”

“Dunno, some old geezers. All the ideas for the videos and the voiceovers were on Shiro-chan since she actually knew you all. If you want to know about your motive, you’d have to ask her about that too. I had no idea who I was filming.”

“I see…”

Awkward silence filled the passageway, reminding Nuriko that it was probably about time she got going. She took a deep breath and took a step away from Amami, trying to ignore all of the unease and fear that was slowly making its way back into the back of her head.

“Wait, Nuriko-san…” Amami said as he took hold of Nuriko’s shoulder. “This is goodbye, right? I’ll never see you again?”

“Who knows?” she shrugged. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and the Future Foundation won’t shoot me at first sight.” Nuriko forced out a nervous laugh.

“Are you scared?”

“Why would I be? Everything is either going to be fine or going to be full of despair. Which is, like… what more could I ask for?”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Ah,” Nuriko looked down to make sure. “So they are. Weird…” She clutched her hands together, hoping that that would somehow lessen the trembling. “It’s from all the excitement about the maybe upcoming despair, y’know?”

She looked at Amami to see him staring back at her with a grim expression.

“Can’t fool you, huh?” she laughed. “Yeah. I’m terrified. But it’s what I deserve. I’m a horrible person, you know? I don’t expect you to feel bad for me. So don’t.”

“I’m sorry…” Amami muttered.

“What did I just say? What are you even apologizing for?”

“I thought that maybe I could’ve changed you, even a little. Maybe then, you could’ve stayed…”

“Yeah, right. Even if you managed to do that, I still killed a shit-ton of people. There’s no changing that,” Nuriko sighed. “You know how I said that I didn’t join the Despair for a good reason? Well, that reason was rebellion. The stupid, edgy teenage kind. I was barely fourteen at the time. I grew up apart from my parents and my sister, and I was obviously just a burden on the relatives that I lived with. I just wanted to belong somewhere, I guess. And all I had to do to belong with the Ultimate Despairs was kill people and act as if despair was the greatest fucking thing anyone had ever felt. Easy enough, right?”

“If you know that your reason was stupid, then why didn’t you just quit?”

“Fuck, you too? Where would I go, smartass? What do you expect me, a fucking kid who knows nothing but how to smash someone’s brains out with a bat, to do? I killed everyone I knew except for Kae-chan. The remnants were the only thing I had left.”

“Obviously you know how to do _something._ You created that whole academy, didn’t you?”

“That giant computer used to be Future Foundation’s. Some remnants hijacked it when they were looting the city. The computer already had the Neo World Program on it, and getting Kamukura’s Monokuma AI was no big deal, either. Don’t know where it all started, but by the time Shiro-chan and I came up with the whole make-our-own-killing-game plan, pretty much every remnant had a copy. And Monokuma can pretty much take care of creating the environment by himself. I just duplicated him a bunch of times so they would do everything faster.”

“And those were the Monokubs?”

“Yeah. I changed up a few values to tell them apart, and that was pretty much it. I didn’t do shit, Survivor. I’m no Ultimate. All talent went into Kae-chan.”

_“That’s_ your excuse?” he muttered.

Nuriko walked up to Amami and cupped his face in her hands. “I’m just a useless irredeemable person, you know? So once again, don’t feel bad, okay?” she gave him her best attempt at a reassuring smile. “Ama-chan.”

Nuriko stood up on her toes and carefully touched foreheads with Amami, before immediately turning around and walking away. Adventurer was shouting something to her from behind, but she just picked up the pace.

There was no point in stretching her goodbyes any further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodbye, my bitchy child. I loved you with all my heart and I'll miss you dearly :")


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay (((（´・ω・；`）))) Still getting used to the uni life

“Kichi.”

Ouma took a deep breath as he waited for the shivers to calm down. “Again.”

“Kichi,” Momota repeated in a monotone voice. “Should I just go back to calling you Ouma? If you have to go this out of your way to get used to it…”

“No no no, it’s fine, I like it. Besides, if I’m gonna call you my beloved, it’s only fair that you get to call me something equally embarrassing in return.”

“Aren’t Shuichi and Amami are your ‘beloveds’ too? They don’t call you anything special.”

“That’s because you’re a special beloved.”

“And what does that mean, exactly?” 

Ouma stopped wandering around his bedroom. What _did_ it mean? Momota was special somehow, there was no doubt about that. Exactly _how_ was the question Ouma hasn’t quite figured out yet.

Amami was a beloved just because of his looks. Just because his light hair, green eyes, and overall build reminded Ouma of Shio right off the bat. Maybe it was shallow, but it was a simple truth Ouma had accepted long ago. Saihara was a bit trickier. Maybe it was his resolve that enticed Ouma so much. Maybe it was his nature of being quiet, yet dependable. Whatever it was, at its core, Ouma’s attraction to both of them was nothing more than him desperately trying to find anything familiar in that hell of a game. How else was he supposed to keep his sanity?

But Momota? He wasn’t anything like Shio to begin with, neither in looks nor personality. Well, his hair sort of looked like Shio’s now, but that was only because Ouma intentionally fashioned it into a similar ponytail… Still, it didn’t make any sense.

“Don’t know. You’re just special. Feelings are confusing, okay?”

“Fine, whatever,” Momota shrugged. “Anyway, I’m guessing you feel better now? Since you’re walking and all.”

“Well yeah, how long do you expect me to just lie around? That shit’s boring. Besides,” he pulled down his sleeve slightly, revealing a bit of the bandaged arm, “this didn’t even do all that much. I thought it’d be worse.”

“Could’ve been worse? Dude, you almost died…”

“So what? I’m used to almost dying.”

“Huh? Wh-what?” Momota looked to Ouma in utter confusion. “You’re _used_ to it? How many times do you have to almost die to _get used_ to it?”

“Do you remember how many breads you’ve eaten in your life?”

Momota stared at Ouma in silence. “Just… what kind of life did you have?”

“Nishishi,” Ouma giggled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Momota rolled his eyes, seemingly having gotten the hint. “…I still don’t get why you did it,” he finally said.

“It’s better if you don’t, ‘cus if I told you, you’d feel bad.”

“I already feel horrible for not noticing anything when I had every chance to stop you.”

“You wouldn’t be my beloved if you had.”

Momota averted his eyes. Ouma could tell that he wanted to ask what he meant by that, but he held himself back.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Ouma said. “It wasn’t your fault. and there was nothing you could have done to change my mind either.”

“Didn’t you say that I was a major reason you did it?”

Damn. Ouma had to stop saying weird things without thinking.

“Even if you were, that doesn’t mean that it was your fault.”

“Can you talk in a way that I understand?”

Ouma sighed. “Don’t think about it, Momota-chan. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Silence again. Ouma couldn’t take the awkwardness any longer. Dammit, he shouldn’t have said anything…

“You should go now,” he muttered, averting his eyes. “The others are probably waiting for you.”

“You sure you don’t want to come too?”

“Nope. We agreed on two days, so I’m not going anywhere ‘til tomorrow. Don’t even try.”

“Yeah, maybe it’s better if you stay in for now…” Momota mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. But still, Kichi.”

“Yeah?”

“Here,” Momota pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it in Ouma’s direction. Ouma caught it, something small, cold and metal. A key with a number tag attached to it. To the bedroom, presumably?

“Why?” Ouma asked, giving Momota a confused look.

“In case you change your mind,” he grinned as he got up from the bed. “Just let me know right away if you do decide to come out, ‘kay?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Ouma absentmindedly spun the key around his finger. “But now you can’t just barge in here whenever.”

“Well, yeah. You’ll just have to let me in.”

Ouma smirked. “And if I won’t?”

“You will. I know you love me.”

Ouma’s mind went blank. His cheeks slowly started to heat up, hopefully not obviously enough for Momota to notice. Did he… did he just… no, there was no way. Ouma himself wasn’t too sure about his feelings towards the astronaut. How could someone as dense and oblivious as him to have caught onto something?

“Everybody loves the Luminary of the Stars!”

Ah, right. Of course.

Momota walked up to Ouma and playfully ruffled his hair. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Dude, shut up,” Ouma pushed away the other’s hand, made his way to the door and unlocked it. “There. Go already.”

Momota looked as if he wanted to say something, but changed his mind and silently walked out. Ouma locked the door again and sat down on the floor with a sigh.

Momota was right. Maybe ‘love’ would be putting it too strongly, but there certainly was something. Maybe an attraction, or maybe something else. Maybe it was just simple gratitude for everything Momota’s done for Ouma so far. One thing was for sure: Ouma did like him. He wanted to spend more time with him. Maybe even the rest of his life. Not as lovers or friends, just being acquaintances would’ve been enough. With Momota, Ouma felt at peace. He felt safe.

He felt happy.

But that happiness was temporary. Ouma knew that. One wrong move from him or Momota and this perfect haven would fall apart. They could live carefree for a few weeks, months, maybe even years, but not forever. Then what? As much as he wanted to just act as if everything was fine, he couldn’t ignore the facts. Ouma was a walking safety hazard. A ticking bomb with its timer set on random. And the longer he tried to deny it, the harder it’d be on everyone when it inevitably went off.

He clutched the key in his hand. If only Momota didn’t give him this… then Ouma would still have the excuse that there was nothing he could do. That Momota had all of the control over the situation, and Ouma couldn’t change it. That Ouma had no choice but to let Momota do whatever he wanted. But not anymore.

Ouma clutched his fist even harder, the edges of the key almost piercing his skin. With this key, with this _goddamn_ key, he could shut Momota out. There was no reason not to. It’d be for Momota’s own good. For his safety. He’d be better off without Ouma. Everyone would be. All Ouma had to do was refuse to let Momota in, leave the room only when he absolutely needed to, and not let anyone take the key from him. Then, once he got the chance, he could finish himself off. He wouldn’t mess up again. He would do it properly this time. He’d do it the way he was taught. He didn’t care about how painful it’d be anymore. He had to protect Momota, no matter what… he wasn’t scared, he didn’t care about the pain, he really didn’t, he didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t care…

The key finally cut Ouma’s hand, causing him to drop it on the floor. Dammit… Ouma raised the hand up to his mouth and licked off the few drops of blood that came out. At least the pain cleared his head a little… What he needed to do now was think. He needed to plan out what to do when, and prepare for any turn of events. He couldn’t mess it up, this could be his last chance to ever…

His train of thought suddenly stopped. The key. There was no guarantee that it was the only one for this door. Do ships normally have spare keys for every room? It wasn’t a hotel or anything, so maybe there was no need for it… But it was still a possibility, right? Ouma couldn’t just rule it out. If he couldn’t securely lock the door, then-

Ouma nervously laughed to himself and covered his head with his hands. That’s right… he needed more time. He had to think everything through and confirm that nothing could go wrong. He felt a wave of relief washing over him, now that he found a new excuse to not die just yet.

Maybe he could afford to stay happy for just a while longer…

* * *

Momota walked into the dining hall to find Harukawa sitting with a coffee cup all by herself.

“Well, look who finally showed up,” she lifted her head and greeted the astronaut with a subtle smile.

“Heya, Harumaki. Anything happen while I was gone?”

“Not much,” she shrugged. “Everyone’s settled in, Akamatsu’s sister’s gone now, apparently, and we finally left for that island. Also, Saihara was annoyed that you skipped training.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry about ditching yesterday.”

“It’s fine. Figured you’d be with the brat most of the time ‘til he joins us. How’s the progress on that, by the way?”

“That, uh… I haven’t asked him yet.”

“Well, good luck with that.” She paused, messing with a strand of her hair. “Hey, do you think I could see him for a bit? It’s better if I apologize to him sooner than later, right?”

Momota tapped his fingers on the table, thinking to himself. “No,” he finally said. “He didn’t want anyone to see him for now.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. But he says he’ll be out tomorrow anyway. I’ll make sure to not let him avoid you. Until then,” Momota stretched his arms, “you know where Iruma’s at?”

“You want to confront her about Ouma?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Beat you to that already. She shut me out as soon as I brought up the brat. She’s not going to listen. You’d have to give up on reasoning with her. For now, at least.”

“How am I supposed to give up on her? She’ll give him hell tomorrow!”

“Not give up on _her._ Give up on _reasoning.”_

“You lost me.”

“We just need to get Iruma to shut up and stay away from the brat, right?”

“Pretty much.”

“And we’ve tried talking to her with no results.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what does that leave us with?”

“Are you telling me to hit her?”

“She’s pretty much asking for it at this point.”

“I’m not going to punch a girl.”

“I can punch her for you.”

“No one’s going to punch anyone.”

“Okay, okay. What do you suggest, then?”

Momota took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts. “You said that she shut the door on you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, we’ll wait until she won’t be able to. Like, at lunch or something. All of us will confront her again and hope that it works.”

“All of us?” Harukawa gave Momota a skeptical look.

“Fine, not ‘all of us’. You, Shuichi and I, and maybe someone else will side with us.”

“And if that fails?”

Momota paused. He didn’t really have a backup plan. Maybe he’d have to punch Iruma after all, despite how much he hated to do it…

“Well, don’t worry too much,” Harukawa said as she put her hand on Momota’s shoulder. “Even if nothing works, I’ll help you protect the brat. If she as little as looks at him weird, I’ll throw her overboard myself.”

“…Thanks, Harumaki.”

Hopefully, she was only joking about that last part.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OwO what's this? A chapter only a week after the previous one? A miracle.

Hinata slowly woke up to the familiar sensation of chilly metal fingers gently tracing his jawline. Not wanting to open his eyes just yet, he lazily covered his face with his arm. He was glad that Komaeda liked his prosthetic hand, he just wished he didn't use it to touch Hinata without warning. Especially when he was asleep.

The touching stopped, but it woke Hinata up just enough for him to feel his boyfriend's intent stare. Despite how much better he's gotten over the years, he still couldn't completely grasp the concept of privacy, for whatever reason...

"Komaeda, not now..." Hinata mumbled as he tried to blindly find and pat the other's head. Sometimes that would be enough. That was not one of those times.

Komaeda snuggled up a bit closer, at first rubbing his cheek against Hinata's arm and slowly working his way up to the shoulder.

Realizing that trying to sleep in a bit more would be impossible, he sighed and finally opened his eyes. Komaeda was sitting on the floor next to their bed, close enough to be able to practically lean on Hinata, which was exactly what he was doing.

"Don't sit on the floor, it's cold..." he mumbled and shifted a bit farther from the edge, making some room.

Komaeda did as he was told and climbed into the bed. He immediately clung onto Hinata, pulling him into a hug.

"If you just wanted in, you didn't have to wake me up."

Komaeda silently shook his head.

Hinata smiled and lovingly ran fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. Whatever… He just wanted to stay like this for a while. The bed was warm and cozy, and while waking up was annoying, as long as he was with Komaeda, he didn’t mind _too_ much…

Hinata playfully nuzzled the top of Komaeda’s head, making him shiver slightly. He felt as if the two of them could stay like this forever. Like nothing else even existed or, at the very least, mattered. What a blissful world that would be… it was a shame that the world probably had other plans.

With an involuntary groan, Hinata sat on the bed. “Did I get switched out again?” he asked, getting up to the floor.

“M-hm,” Komaeda nodded, still laying.

Well, that explained why Hinata didn’t remember going to sleep.

“Sorry. You were bored, weren't you?”

“Ah, no, Hinata-kun, it's fine,” Komaeda sat up, shyly averting his eyes with the usual apologetic look on his face. "You don't have to worry about me, you have enough to worry about as it is, you can just act as if I'm not here when you don't need me, just..." Komaeda continued his regular rant, the one Hinata has heard so many times it didn't even register anymore.

Hinata interrupted his boyfriend with a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Stop that," he said. "I dragged you all the way here to keep me company, it was unfair to leave you on your own like that."

A light blush filled Komaeda's cheeks.

"Anyway," Hinata backed off, stretching his arms a bit. "Catch me up. Where are we at?"

Komaeda shook his head, gathering his thoughts. “Well… we arrived at Hope’s Peak in the early morning, that’s about when you got knocked out, I think… then Kamukura-kun pretty much dealt with everything that had to be dealt with, we left for Jabberwock, and that’s where we’ve been for a while now.”

“Uh-huh…” Hinata muttered. “So, since you’re here, the ship’s on autopilot?”

“Yup. Should be fine for now. Even if we get a bit off-course, it won’t be much of a problem.” Komaeda messed with a strand of his hair, thinking to himself. “Ah, and I let Souda-kun know that we’re going home. So, everything should be ready for the new guys by the time we’ll get there.”

“Anything else worth noting?”

“Souda-kun wanted to know if we’re bringing any ‘cute new girls’ with us. Does this count?”

“Not… really…”

“Then that’s all. Now we just wait.”

Just wait, huh... Nothing else. No more remnants, no more simulations, no more death... it felt weird. Maybe it was because Hinata wasn't there when he handed over Nuriko, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the despair wasn't quite over yet. As if something terrible could happen at any moment and the universe was simply waiting for Hinata to drop his guard.

"Hinata-kun?" Komaeda called out with a concerned look on his face. "You okay?"

"Yeah..." Hinata said. "It's probably nothing."

* * *

Momota took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts. It was time. Everyone was gathered in the dining room, including Iruma. He definitely heard her distinct voice somewhere in the barrage of muffled conversations coming from behind the door.

“Back me up if it gets out of hand, okay?” Momota turned to his sidekicks.

Both nodded in response.

“That’s the plan,” Harukawa added.

‘The plan’? Momota wasn’t sure something so straightforward deserved to be called that. Either way, he pulled the door and the three of them walked in and took the closest empty seats.

“Still no shota, huh?” Iruma smirked. “What, is the fucker too afraid of my righteous rage?”

Momota didn’t even have to be the one to bring Ouma up. He felt somewhat relieved.

“Righteous?” he repeated in a skeptical tone.

“What? That ‘lil shit fuckin’ strangled me. You expect me to be chill with that?”

Already, Momota felt his rage starting to boil up. No, he had to keep calm. He wouldn’t accomplish anything if this just turned into pointless shouting.

“You _do_ realize that you brought it upon yourself, right?”

_“Huh?”_ Iruma glared at Momota with fury. Dammit… Maybe he should’ve worded that better. “How the fuck was it my fault? _He’s_ the problem here.”

“Iruma-san,” Saihara cut in. “You _did_ plan to kill him first. Ouma-kun did what he did in self-defense.”

“Keh! Self-defense?!” Iruma repeated in a mocking tone. “You know what that sonofabitch had to do to survive? Not go to the roof. Dassit.”

“Then you would’ve just killed him elsewhere!”

At this point, everyone else bit by bit stopped what they were doing and directed their attention to the ongoing argument. Shit. Momota didn’t expect for things to escalate this quickly. What’s worse, Iruma must’ve noticed that too.

“You know what I don’t get?” she stood up from her seat and was now towering over the rest of the table. “I don’t get why you’re even defending that scumtard! He treated everyone here like shit, including you. Why the fuck would you even consider giving a shit about him is beyond me.” She leered down at the rest of the class for a brief moment. “Has he ever done anything _good_ for any of us?”

A few low whispers started to spread through the dining room. This wasn’t going very well.

“He _is_ one of the most revolting people I ever had the displeasure to work with,” Tojo’s voice finally rose above all of the incoherent mumbling.

“Agreed,” Kiibo nodded.

“Hey, hey,” Momota stood up as well. Harukawa lightly pulled on his sleeve, reminding him to stay calm. As if he needed to be reminded of that… He _was_ fucking calm already… “I know Kichi is annoying, but this is going too far, don’t you think?”

_“Kichi?”_ Iruma almost burst out in laughter. “So, I was right, you two _are_ fuckbuddies. What, did he brainwash you and now you’re salty that we’re dissing your new master?”

“Iruma,” Harukawa said, glaring at the inventor. “There’s a line, and you crossed it a long time ago.”

“Oh, so are we gonna act like the shota haven’t crossed any lines? I’m sorry, but most of us aren’t ready to accept a psychopath as our overlord, so how about you three shut the fuck up?”

“The fuck are you even talking about?” Momota hissed. “Don’t you all get that he actually _cares_ about your ungrateful asses?”

“Ungrateful?!” Chabashira joined in on the bickering. “What do we have to be grateful _for?_ All that degenerate ever did was get on everyone’s nerves, kill Iruma-san and then try to use his own trial to finish off the rest!”

“You're wrong,” Saihara said.

“He admitted that himself, you know! Akamatsu-san can confirm.”

“Huh?” the pianist perked up at the sound of her name. “I can? When was that, again?”

“Whatever Ouma-kun told you,” Saihara interrupted, “had to have been a lie. He tried to _stop_ the killing game, not continue it.”

“How can you know that it was a lie? He lies so much he probably doesn't know himself what's true and what's not.”

“Chabashira!” Momota barked, too annoyed to even try to keep his voice down. “Shuichi and I actually know him somewhat, so maybe trust us on this one? He's not dangerous.”

“Three people died because of him! Including you!”

“We're fine now, aren't we? Give it a rest already!”

“He still did it!”

“Besides,” Iruma added, “why are you so sure that you know him? He could be lying to you too!”

“I know he's not!”

“How? You had a 'hunch'? Yeah, thanks, really fucking reliable.”

“That's not it!”

“We can't trust him! And neither can you!”

“I'm telling you that it's fine!”

“Then prove it!”

“His fucking trial! Wasn’t that enough proof?”

“All it proved is that the bastard shota’s batshit crazy!”

“You didn’t even _try_ to understand him!”

“Ya know what I think?” Iruma was almost shouting at this point, trying to assert her dominance. “That failed little abortion should just go crawl off and die like he was supposed to!”

“He fucking _tried to!”_ Momota snapped and hit the table with his fist.

A sudden deafening silence filled the room, as the realization of what Momota just said started to sink in. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his classmates, yet it’s like he could still physically feel everyone’s been staring at him. Shit… he should’ve just kept his mouth shut…

“Uh, I mean,” he stuttered. “I mean, the game. H-He could’ve survived, you know. But he, uh, decided to sacrifice himself and…”

Everyone’s piercing stares seemed to just get more and more intense with every passing second, suggesting that no one was buying that sorry attempt at a recovery.

“Momota,” Harukawa finally broke the unbearably awkward silence. “Is this why Ouma has been absent all this time?”

Even her, huh? She and her cold, yet somewhat caring voice… There was no way Momota could lie to her…

“Y-yeah…” he muttered under his breath.

“Be back in a sec,” Amami suddenly said as he got up and headed out the door. Saihara followed him with his stare, threw another glance at Momota, and silently left the room as well. 

Momota slowly sat back down, staring into nothing in silent dread.

He had one job. One thing Ouma had repeatedly asked him not to do.

He had one job and he failed it in the worst way possible.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c

“Amami-kun!” Saihara called out. “Amami-kun! Hold up!”

Amami looked to see who was calling out to him and stopped, waiting for the detective to catch up to him.

“You’re going to see Ouma-kun, right?” Saihara asked, a bit out of breath.

“Well, yeah, obviously.”

“I'm coming with you.”

Amami nodded, and the two of them continued to walk together, a bit slower than before.

“You're the detective, right?” Amami asked after a small pause. “What do you think happened?”

“Well...” Saihara hesitated, “remember how when us, the survivors, had just woken up, Komaeda-kun and Hinata-kun rushed out to somewhere? Momota-kun started to act weird right after that, so I'm guessing that's when it happened.”

“Yeah, that was my guess too... but that's the 'when'. I'm more interested in the 'what' and the 'why'…”

“Guess we'll have to ask Ouma-kun himself.”

“Don't,” Amami objected. “I’m curious too, but unless he tells you himself, don’t pry. I doubt he’ll want to talk about it. I just want to make sure he's okay for now.”

“R-right...” Still, his mind couldn't help but think. There was an explanation somewhere, but there was no way Saihara could figure it out right off the bat. Did something happen here in the real world before the game ended? Ouma seemed fine before that, right? Unless...

Saihara inhaled sharply as a sudden thought hit him.

“Did you realize something?” Amami asked.

“This might not have anything to do with this whole situation, but... now that I'm thinking about it, Ouma-kun mentioned a few times about everyone hating him... and about how he's a 'dickish dictator', so his organization would probably be happy that he's gone. It seemed like a lie or some kind of joke at the time, but... what if it wasn't, you know?”

Saihara remembered the 'trustworthy?' note next to his photo on Ouma's whiteboard. Is Saihara the only one he’s told all this stuff? No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember. If he was, then did that mean that Ouma's weird throwaway lines were actually cries for help? Was there a way Saihara could've prevented this? Was this _his_ fault?

“We're here,” Amami announced, pulling the detective out of his thoughts.

Saihara lifted his eyes and, sure enough, Amami had led him to one of the bedroom doors. “Ouma-kun?” he called, knocking on the door. “It's Amami. Saihara-kun and I just want to talk for a bit. Can you come out?”

No response.

“Ouma-kun?” He knocked again.

After a few painfully slow seconds, the door finally opened just a crack, making it incredibly hard to see anything but the supreme leader’s general silhouette.

“Sup,” Ouma greeted with a smile, though even Saihara could tell that it was forced. “Long time no see, huh? Especially you, Amami-chan. Did ya miss me?”

“I did,” Amami chucked. “That's why I came.”

“Oh? Took you long enough.”

“Well, none of us really knew where you were until yesterday. I tried to see you then, but you didn’t answer the door.”

Saihara threw a quick glance at Amami. Did he really? Or was that a lie? Lying to Ouma would only serve to piss him off…

“Ah. I was probably asleep then,” Ouma muttered under his breath.

“See? I just wanted to talk for a bit. You barely even know me, right?”

“I guess…” Ouma cautiously stepped out of his room and closed the door behind him.

Now that he wasn’t obscured by the door, Saihara could finally take a good look at him. He wasn’t wearing his scarf, exposing his neck. There were no marks or wounds or nothing of the sort on it, so that’s probably not where he…

Saihara gulped nervously. He couldn’t even think about it… he took a deep breath and just focused on analyzing what he saw in front of him. He could think about the implications later.

The rest of Ouma’s body was covered by his clothes, so there was no way for him to check for any injuries. He did, however, notice that some of the cloth belts have gone missing – one from the cuff of one of his sleeves, as well as two long ones from his legs. Other than that, Ouma’s body language seemed nothing like his usual self. His confidence and overwhelming energy was gone, replaced by hesitance and timidity. He was even avoiding eye contact, choosing to focus on the ground instead of either boy he were talking to. And maybe it was overanalyzing at this point, but… he kept his left arm behind his back, as if he was trying to hide it…

“…And Saihara-chan?” Ouma asked, throwing a quick glance in the detective’s direction before averting his eyes again.

“Eh?” Saihara only now realized that he has completely skipped the ongoing conversation. “I, uh… I found out Amami-kun was going to see you, so I decided to come along,” he made his best guess as to what Ouma’s question was about. He didn’t receive any weird glances, so he must’ve guessed correctly. “Ouma-kun…” he continued. “I wanted to say, I’m sorry. I… I know I said some things that I shouldn’t have. I’m not going to pretend like I didn’t mean it, because, at the time, I did. I gave Momota-kun a hard time about being too driven by emotions, but I was guilty of that too. I couldn’t see the bigger picture of what you were trying to do…”

“You think I care about that?” Ouma asked. “Making everyone hate me was the whole point.”

“I messed up your plan, too…”

“So what? Saihara-chan, it’s fine…”

An awkward silence filled the room.

“So…” Amami tried to force the conversation to continue. “Ouma-kun, have you met Nuriko-san?”

“Who?”

“She’s the one who observed all of our killing games. There were multiple of those. Apparently, whenever neither you nor I died early on, we stuck together, every single time. Interesting how that works, huh?”

“Ah. That’s nice…”

Silence again, somehow even more awkward than before.

“Hey… How about you two stop this farce and tell me why you’re _really_ here?”

Dammit… so Ouma saw right through them after all. What did he think would come of trying to slip something by the self-proclaimed king of lies?

“Don’t want to tell me, huh? Is it something bad?” Ouma cocked his head to the side. “Hey… you know, don’t you?”

“Know about what?” Amami asked.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Amami-chan. Though, I guess you _wouldn’t_ know that it’s better not to annoy me…” he sighed. “Saihara-chan.”

“Y-yes?”

“Who was it that couldn’t keep his mouth shut? The space dumbass? Red-eye? The ‘lucky’ one?”

“It… it was Momota-kun...” Saihara muttered in a defeated tone. He could feel Amami glaring at him, but what was he supposed to do? At this point, hiding anything from Ouma would be useless. That would’ve just made him mad, and he would’ve found out anyway…

Ouma’s expression darkened. “And?” he asked in a harsher voice. He was obviously mad… “What about you two? Did you come to check up on me or whatever? Is that it? If so, what are you still doing here? I’m still alive, as you can see!”

“We just–”

“Shut up already… you got what you came for, so leave me alone.” He reached for the doorknob to go back into his room.

“Ouma-kun, wait–” Amami grabbed him by his wrist, making him jolt.

In what felt like a fraction of a second, Ouma broke the hold off his wrist and pulled on Amami's arm with a strength that seemed almost unreal for someone so small, slamming the adventurer headfirst into a wall. A deafening bang echoed through the ship, making Saihara reflexively cover his ears and close his eyes. When he finally opened them, all he could see was a bloodstain on the wall, as well as Amami, lying unconsciously on the floor.

“O-Ouma-kun?!” Saihara shrieked, shifting his eyes to the supreme leader.

“Shit...” Ouma whispered. He looked at Saihara, seemingly just as terrified, if not more. “Saihara-chan, I... I-I didn't mean to, I...” His face was turning paler and paler, and his breathing started to accelerate.

Saihara's eyes darted back and forth between Ouma and Amami. What was he supposed to do? What was even happening? _Why_ was it happening?

Shaking and hyperventilating, Ouma slowly backed away until his back hit the wall. Saihara noticed that his lips were moving, yet not a single sound was able to come out.

"I'm... sorry..." Saihara managed to make out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over and over again...

* * *

“W-Well,” Iruma muttered. “It's not my fault the lil shit tried to kill himself... that has nothing to do with me...”

“Shut up,” Harukawa stated coldly.

With a quiet yelp, Iruma finally settled down.

Dammit...

Momota tried to pull himself together. He messed up. He really, really messed up. He’d betrayed Ouma's trust. He'll be mad for sure... he had every right to be. Hopefully, there was some way to...

Momota's thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang. He instinctively sprung up from his seat and turned to the door where the sound came from. That... came from where Saihara and Amami went, didn't it?

Momota and Harukawa shared a concerned look and hurried down the passageway. An empty corridor, another one, another one… shit, where were they?

Finally, he caught a glimpse of his sidekick crouched on the floor. “Shui… chi?” He started to call out, but stopped midway when he realized what Saihara was doing.

He was kneeling next to Amami’s motionless body, struggling to lift it off of the floor. Drops of blood were rolling down the adventurer’s temple, through his blondish-green hair and finally falling to the floor.

“H-hey, Shuichi… what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” He uttered. “I don’t really get it myself… I… ended up telling Ouma-kun about what you said, and… somehow, _this_ happened…”

“Is Amami…”

“He’s alive. He just got knocked out.”

“Where’s Ouma?” Harukawa asked.

“He ran towards the deck, I think… he was really freaked out himself…”

“Go,” Harukawa lightly pushed Momota’s back. “I’ll handle whatever happened here.”

“Gotcha,” Momota nodded and dashed further down the passageway. The deck, the deck… it should’ve been right around…

“…Here,” Momota whispered to himself, stopping in front of a yet another door. He stepped outside and was immediately welcomed by the wind and drizzling rain. “Shit… is he somewhere around here?”

Momota carefully made his way around the deck until he finally saw a familiar figure, standing in the wind with his back facing the astronaut.

“Kichi!” Momota called out.

Ouma turned around and took a few steps back, terror-filled eyes looking back at him.

“Kichi, I'm sorry,” Momota said. “I didn't mean to, I got caught up in the moment...”

“Stay back!” Ouma interrupted. “Whatever you do, just... don't come any closer.”

Reluctantly, he did what he was told and backed off. He expected Ouma to be mad and to feel betrayed, but this... he acted as if he was somehow _afraid_ of Momota...

“…Kichi?”

Now that Momota was a moderate distance away, Ouma seemed to have calmed down just a bit. At least he didn't look as if he was on a verge of a panic attack anymore. He just stood there, staring at Momota with pleading eyes and nervously biting his lip.

“I don't get it...” He finally muttered. “Why can _she_ control it when I can't? Why is _she_ the one who gets to be happy? We're... the same, aren't we? I was supposed to be better than her... I'm the one who escaped as soon as I got the chance...”

“What... are you talking about?”

Ouma took a deep breath and shook his head. Suddenly, his expression morphed into one of unmitigated anger. "I trusted you!" he yelled.

There it was.

“I know,” Momota lowered his eyes.

“Right when I thought that you had a brain in there after all...”

“I'm sorry.”

“I don't need your half-assed apologies!”

“I know. Kichi, I messed up. Big time. Is there any way I could make it up to you?”

Ouma narrowed his eyes in frustration. _“Make it up?_ You think it's that easy? No, you know what? There is a way. Go use your talent for once and fuck off to space.”

“I can't do that...”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Kichi–”

“What? Is your so-called talent just a huge fucking joke too?!”

“Too?”

For a split second, a look of fear and confusion crawled his way back onto Ouma's face, before disappearing again. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Forget it. Just... leave me alone.”

Momota feared that this was where this conversation was going. However, something told him that this was the worst time to get stubborn. He should just let Ouma have some space for now…

“Okay. I will. But... Kichi? Just one question?”

He sighed. _“What?”_

“Will you be okay?”

He bit his lip again. “…Yes.”

“Okay, I'll… be around… if you’ll need me.”

“…I won’t.”

Trying his hardest to ignore the heavy feeling in his chest, Momota slowly walked away.

* * *

Powerless, Ouma sat down on the deck. It worked. His bluff worked. Momota bought it. A miracle, considering how much of a panic Ouma'd been all the way through it.

He pulled his knees up to his chest, curling into a ball. There were no doubts now. No room for excuses. He hasn’t changed at all. He was right in avoiding everyone. He was right in trying to get Momota to leave. He was right in trying to die. It’s what he deserved.

And… now Momota should leave him alone, at least for the time being. Which meant this was the perfect time for Ouma to act. To ensure no one else would interfere and to end it all. Yes, that would be best... no one else would need to suffer. He would protect everyone... this time for sure.

Weird... why couldn't he stop shaking? It was probably just because of the wind and the cold. Because Ouma wasn’t scared. There's no way he could be scared of something he rightfully deserved.

He desperately tried to suppress his sobs. He wanted to stay with Momota...


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to clear some things up.

Bit by bit, Amami regained consciousness. He could hear slightly muffled voices, he could see a soft light passing through his closed eyelids, and he could certainly feel an annoying throbbing pain in his right temple.

“Ouma did this?” He heard Hinata's confused voice from somewhere close enough to hear clearly.

Oh yeah, that _did_ happen... so that's why his head was hurting... He couldn’t understand _what_ he did that deserved such a reaction, but… he could figure that out later. Everyone was probably worried about him…

Amami forced himself to open his eyes. He found himself sitting on a bed and leaning against a wall. It looked similar to his room, but then again, all of the bedrooms on a ship looked pretty much the same… Hinata was sitting next to him, pressing some kind of cloth against his head to soak up the blood. Saihara, Harukawa, and Momota stood across the room with concerned looks on their faces.

“You awake?” Hinata asked with a somewhat relieved expression. “Good, that was quick… then it's probably nothing serious...”

“Yeah… I’m okay,” he nodded, more to calm everyone down than to confirm anything.

“Amami-kun, I’m so sorry…” Saihara muttered.

“What for?”

“I thought I knew what to expect from Ouma-kun, but I couldn’t see this coming… you wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I did–”

“It’s fine, you’re fine… “

“I didn’t even know he could do something like this,” Saihara continued. “I mean, _physically._ He’s so small, you know?”

“I don’t know…” Momota said. “His punches are pretty freakin’ tough…”

“It’s nothing _too_ surprising,” Harukawa added. “I’ve seen plenty of short, young or otherwise weak-looking people who turned out to be very capable in a fight. I myself could go one-on-one with huge opponents as a kid without too much trouble. And that’s when they actually knew what to expect from me.”

“But… you’re a bit of a special case, don’t you think?” Saihara asked.

“True,” she nodded. “I doubt Ouma has experienced anything close to what the Holy Salvation Society put me through. I’m just trying to prove the point that a person being small doesn’t mean that they can’t smash someone’s brains in.” She twirled a strand of hair between her fingers. “If anything, harmless-looking ones are the most dangerous because you can’t help but let your guard down around them.”

“Let… your guard down?” Momota repeated to himself. He narrowed his eyes and stared off into space as if he was starting to realize something.

* * *

“Shio-chan!” Ouma called out.

“Ah, Kokichi,” Ouma’s right-hand man put down the makeshift backpack he was holding. “I finished packing, we can leave whenever you–” he stopped midway as he noticed Ouma's worried expression. “H-hey, Kokichi. Did something happen? You look troubled...”

“Have you seen Mae-chan?”

“Kyoshi? I don't think I have... but I've been packing all morning, so I could've just missed her...”

“Shit...” Ouma clicked his tongue. “None of us have seen her...”

“Maybe she just went to the bathroom.”

“Since before any of us woke up? Even if she did, something must've happened to her...”

“She could've gone on a walk?”

“She would've told me! Or told _someone,_ at the very least. Mae-chan follows the rules, unlike _some_ people.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Shio laughed. “So, what’s your theory? I know you have one by now.”

Ouma nervously bit his nail. “It’s not based on anything, I might be wrong…”

“I don’t care if it’s wrong,” Shio shrugged. “You know you can tell me anything, Kokichi. It’s not like I’m gonna judge you for trying to figure stuff out.”

“Fine, so, I’m thinking… What if the locals took her?”

“The ones from a few days ago?”

Ouma nodded.

“Why would they?”

“Have you _seen_ their leader? He's totally the type of guy who keeps a harem in his basement.”

“Why would he go for our youngest one, then?”

“Who knows how much of a freak he is…”

“Kokichi,” Shio put both of his hands on Ouma’s shoulders and calmly looked into his eyes. “I’m sure she’s fine. She can protect herself. You should know that better than anyone.”

“I know, but…”

“Don’t worry about them. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll find Kyoshi and bring her back no matter the cost,” Shio gently pressed his forehead against Ouma’s. “I’ll fight off that whole group by myself if I have to. You get the rest and leave. Don’t wait for us. We’ll catch up with you.”

_“’Catch up?’_ Do you seriously think I’ll let you go alone?”

“I’ll be fine,” Shio smiled. “You said yourself that I was a ‘promising one’.”

“But–”

“Listen… I personally doubt that the Holy Salvation Society is still following us. But if I’m wrong, staying here for any longer than we already have would put all of DICE in danger. We _have_ to leave. Which means, if we want to look for Kyoshi, someone has to stay behind.”

Ouma clenched his fist. “Then… you go with the others and I’ll look for Mae-chan…”

“See, I can’t let you do that,” Shio smiled. “If something happens to you, DICE’ll fall apart. Everyone needs you. But not me. I’m sure everyone will miss me if I don’t come back, but it’s not like the whole group depends on me. See my point?”

“Don’t say something so morbid so casually… I depend on you.”

“Then you should stop.”

“H-huh?”

“I can’t promise that Kyoshi and I will come back to you quickly. It might take us days or even weeks to catch up. Even then, there’s no guarantee that I’ll _always_ be able to stand by your side. If something like that ever happens, you’ll have to lead DICE on your own.”

“What are you saying?” Ouma forced out a small chuckle, trying to laugh it off.

Shio sighed. “Never mind… I’ll be off now,” he gave Ouma a kiss on the forehead and started walking away.

“Shio-chan, wait… are you sure? Maybe it’s better if I come with you after all, I’ll protect you if something happens… if it has something to do with those locals… they might be dangerous.”

Shio shook his head. “I’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine. I wouldn’t want to disappoint my beloved, after all.”

Shio waved Ouma goodbye and headed off.

* * *

He should’ve just listened to Shio and did as he was told. Ouma knew that. But he just couldn’t help going after his beloved.

“Dumbass…” he muttered to himself. If he was going to tag along anyway, he should’ve done so from the beginning. Sure, maybe Shio would’ve complained a little, but that would’ve been much better than changing his mind halfway and blindly searching for not just one, but two DICE members.

The sound of someone’s nearby voice made Ouma stop thinking and reflexively crouch next to the closest wall.

“Are you sure this is the place?” a timid high-pitched voice asked. Mae’s voice. Ouma let out a sigh of relief.

“That’s what he told me,” Shio’s voice responded.

…And Shio was already with her. Well, what do you know? If Ouma knew everything would get resolved so quickly, he wouldn’t have worried so much. He stood up from behind his hiding place and headed in the voices’ direction.

“Are you sure that–” Mae stopped mid-sentence as she noticed Ouma in the distance. She immediately began anxiously tugging on one of her braids.

“Shio-chan!” Ouma called, “you found her, thank god... C'mon, let's go and–”

Shio and Mae gave each other a quick panicked glance, after which Shio suddenly wrapped his arm around her shoulders, took out a pocket knife and pointed it at Mae's neck.

“Kokichi. Stay where you are,” he warned.

“S-Shio-chan?”

“I thought I told you to leave.”

“S-Shio-chan? What are you doing? Come on... this isn’t the time to joke around...”

“You think I’m joking? I’m not. Leave.” He moved the blade closer to Mae's neck, to the point where it was almost touching her skin.

Ouma took a step back. Shio… wasn’t joking? That couldn’t be right. He had to have been, this… this couldn’t make any sense otherwise...

Mae’s eyes darted back and forth between Ouma and Shio as she nervously chewed on her lip. “Leader...” she said in a surprisingly calm tone. “Don't worry about me. Just go. I'll be okay.”

He couldn’t understand what was happening. He just couldn’t. Why would his beloved…

“How long are you gonna just stand there?! What part of 'go' do you not understand?” Shio yelled. “Do you _want_ me to cut her? Because I will!”

“Shio-chan… Explain what’s going on.”

_“'What's going on?'_ What are you, blind? I’m betraying you, that's what's going on!”

Ouma felt his chest as the reality of the situation has started to sink in. ‘Betraying’? But… why?

“H-huh? Shio-chan, but... you're my beloved... You said you'd follow me to hell and back...”

Shio shrugged, averting his eyes. “Guess I got bored of you.”

_‘Bored?’_

“But, you see…” Shio continued. “I _do_ love you, Kokichi. That’s why I tried to do this sneakily so you wouldn’t be hurt too much. But you just had to follow me and ruin everything… Now we have to do this the hard way. I didn’t want to, but I don’t have a choice at this point.”

“So, what _was_ your plan?!” Ouma snapped. “To just disappear from my life while pretending that you were helping me?! As if that would’ve hurt any less!” He felt his eyes starting to tear up. “I don’t get you… Everything was fine, wasn’t it? We were happy…”

“Kokichi,” Shio’s voice slightly wavered. “Forget you ever saw this, go back to DICE and leave. That’ll be better for everyone involved. I promise that Kyoshi will be safe with me.”

“Says the man pointing a knife to her throat?!”

“And whose fault is that?! You’re the one who won’t go away. You’re _making_ me do this.”

“What do you even need her for?! She has nothing to do with any of this!”

“She’s my… insurance.”

“What insurance?! Explain everything so I can understand you! That’s an order!”

For a split second, Ouma could swear he saw Shio grit his teeth as if this was hard for him too. That, however, quickly turned into a smug grin.

“I never really obeyed your orders, have I? Why would I start _after_ betraying you?” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Kokichi. But I’m not the one to blame here.”

“Shio-chan… If it’s something I did, I’m sorry. But we can fix this. Shio-chan, beloved, just… put down your knife, we’ll talk this through.”

“Does this look like look like something you can talk through?” he slightly raised his knife, making Mae lift up her chin even higher. “I’ll admit, I should’ve put more thought into this whole thing. There’s probably a billion ways I could’ve handled this better… but _now_ it’s too late. There’s no getting off this ride, and it’s going off the rails.”

Shio bit his lip. “Kokichi… This isn’t going anywhere. I’m going to count to three, and if you’re not gone by then, I’ll cut Kyoshi’s neck.”

“S-Shio-chan?!” Ouma felt his heart drop. He wasn’t serious, right? There’s no way he would be able to do it, _right?!_ Not Shio. He’s always been so kind and caring… There’s no way he would be able to hurt someone from DICE, from their _family,_ let alone kill them…

“One…”

Then why was he doing this?! Was it Ouma’s fault? What did he do to make Shio do this?! How could he not notice if he did something so terrible it made his beloved turn against him?!

“Two…”

_Why wasn’t Mae fighting back?!_

“Three–”

Ouma’s body moved on its own. It dashed forward, knocking Shio over and pinning him to the ground. It made Ouma reach into his pocket, and in the next second, something wet covered Ouma’s hands…

Mae’s terrified shriek made Ouma come to his senses. He lowered his eyes to see Shio lying on the ground with a terrified expression on his face, his hands over his own neck. His mouth was moving erratically as if he was desperately trying to breathe in, but couldn’t. Then, Ouma noticed blood running from underneath Shio’s fingers. There was a cut right over his windpipe.

Ouma glanced at his own hands in disbelief, but, sure enough, they were covered in blood as well. So did the pocket knife that they were holding.

* * *

Ouma woke up, his heart racing so fast it felt like it was about to explode.

It wasn’t real. What he saw wasn’t real. It was a yet another nightmare, and nothing else…

Except it _was_ real. Every single word, every movement, every drop of blood on Ouma’s hands – all of it happened. _Ouma_ made it happen.

He buried his face in the jacket that he was clinging onto, letting it absorb all of the tears that were streaming down Ouma’s face. _Just_ the jacket, with no Momota to help the failure of a supreme leader calm down. He was alone. Completely and utterly alone, deservingly so, and with no one but himself to blame. But it was fine. He would end it soon. If he couldn’t control himself, that was the only option left. That was his responsibility. He couldn’t let anyone else get hurt because of him.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning for the chapter:**  
>  Talks/thoughts about self-harm/suicide. You know, the usual.

Komaeda sighed and shifted around in his bed, trying to get into a more comfortable position. It’d been dark for a while, far past the middle of the night, yet he just couldn’t sleep. He must’ve been the only one on the ship with that problem. Even Hinata, who usually stayed up in stressful situations, was lying peacefully next to Komaeda and holding onto his metal hand, trying to keep it warm.

Unable to either fall asleep or take any more of the boredom, Komaeda carefully got out of the bed, trying his best not to disturb his boyfriend. Maybe a little walking would clear his head a little. Or, at the very least, make him tired. Making sure he didn’t wake Hinata up, Komaeda left the room and started wandering around the sleeping ship.

For some reason, he just couldn’t shake the familiar sense of constant dread, the one he was so used to feeling back when he was still afraid of dying at any moment, be it to his luck or to his condition. Komaeda lightly smacked his head. Bad thoughts. This was all past him now. He didn’t have to think about those things anymore. It was _better_ to not think about them anymore.

His aimless wandering eventually brought him into the kitchen. There, in the far end of the room with all of the drawers and cupboards, he saw a short, familiar figure standing with its back turned. Maybe Komaeda was only seeing things because of the dark, but he could almost swear the figure was staring intently at the knife drawer.

“Ouma-kun?”

The boy turned around, startled by the sudden voice. He then timidly averted his eyes, sank down on the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees.

“Can't sleep?” Komaeda asked as he walked closer and leaned against a kitchen counter. “The nightmares?”

After a long pause, Ouma responded with a barely noticeable nod.

“Your death?”

“Someone else's,” he muttered.

“Yeah, those stick with you for a while. Want to talk about it?”

Ouma shook his head.

Komaeda sighed. “Hey, I heard about what happened, and... I know that you’re mad at Momota-kun, but he really didn't mean to. Iruma-san said some bad things about you, and he was trying to defend you. It was an accident.”

“So what? He still did it. ‘It was an accident’ isn't an excuse.”

Komaeda tapped his fingers on the side of the glass, thinking to himself. He couldn't help but feel that Ouma was talking about himself, in a way...

“People make mistakes, Ouma-kun. It's okay.”

No response.

“And Amami-kun's totally fine too, you don't have to worry–”

“I didn't ask.”

Komaeda shut his mouth, smiling awkwardly. What was he supposed to say? Was Ouma worried about something other than Amami? No, that couldn't be. Still... of all people, Komaeda should've had the best idea of what Ouma's been going through. Then why was it so hard to find the right words?

Ouma must’ve felt lost. Useless. Betrayed by the person who he was the closest to. Afraid to hurt someone with something he obviously had no control over. While Komaeda definitely could relate, telling that to Ouma was probably not a good idea. He always got annoyed whenever Komaeda tried to bring up how similar the two of them were…

Still, he had to do something. There was no doubt in Komaeda’s mind that Ouma just wanted to be left alone, but doing so would only make things worse. Who knows what he could do in a desperate state like that… No, Komaeda had a quite clear idea of what he could do.

“I know it’s tough, but… it’ll get better,” he finally said.

“What will?”

“Well, everything. If things are bad now, they can only get better, right?”

“As if…”

Thought so. It was probably too naïve to even hope that everything could be resolved so easily…

“No, you know what?” Ouma suddenly spoke up. “Yeah. You’re right. Everything’ll be much better soon.”

“Really?” Komaeda asked, a bit surprised. He didn’t expect Ouma to agree so easily. Yet still, the barely noticeable hints of nervousness in supreme leader’s voice remained.

“M-hm. I’m sure everything will go back to normal in a few days at most. No one will remember any of this ever happened… Well, I guess Momota-chan wouldn’t forget…” he almost whispered the last part, making it nearly impossible to make out. “Hey, Komaeda-chan. Why did you save me?”

“Save you?” Komaeda repeated, taken aback by the sudden question. “How could I not have?”

“Very easily, actually.”

“Ouma-kun. You're part of our family now. Of course I'll be looking out for you.”

“What 'family'? The only family I've ever had is DICE, and they're gone. You're a stranger to me.”

“We don’t know that,” Komaeda objected. “They might still be out there, we just haven’t found them yet. We can’t lose hope–”

“Stop kidding yourself already. They couldn’t have lasted this long without a leader, and there wasn’t anyone to replace me. There hasn’t been for a while…” Ouma stood up and started to inch away from Komaeda.

“Still, until we know for sure…”

“And don’t pretend you care. It pisses me off. We all know that you and red-eye are only doing what you’re told, so fucking act like it.”

“Well, I… I can’t deny that we _are_ doing what we’re told, but that doesn’t mean we don’t care. We’ve been through the same thing, so we know how horrifying the killing game is. Not to mention, we are, in a way, responsible for everything that you went through. We can’t fix what’s been done, but we can give you a decent life and, hopefully, get you back in touch with your loved ones. That’s the least we can do.”

“Shut. Up. Do you not _hear_ how fake you sound?” Ouma muttered. “You should’ve just let me die there. That would’ve been better… So much better… Shouldn’t have brought me back from the simulation at all…”

Komaeda almost shivered after hearing something so similar to what he used to always tell himself. 

“Ouma-kun,” he said. “Don’t ever say things like that. Not for my sake or anyone else’s, but your own. It’ll mess with your head, you’ll feel horrible, and it’ll be very hard to make it stop.”

“Do I look like I care? Nothing will matter in the end anyway.” Ouma stood up and headed in the direction of the door before stopping midway. “Ah, Komaeda-chan?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask. Is there only one key to each of the rooms?”

“H-huh? Yeah, only one. Why?”

“Ah, no reason. Just wanted to make sure Momota-chan had no way of barging in when I didn’t want him to.”

Ouma forced out a smile and proceeded to walk away.

“Ouma-kun, wait,” Komaeda called out. “Whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t. We’ll find a way to help, it’ll all be fine, I promise–

“I’m just going back to bed, chill,” Ouma stated in a bored tone. “See ya.” With that said, he left the room.

As soon as the door closed, Komaeda opened the drawer and counted all the knives. None seemed to be missing. He let out a sigh of relief.

Maybe his inability to fall asleep was a stroke of good luck.

* * *

Ouma locked his bedroom door behind him and slowly sat down on the floor. He hadn’t been caught. Good… The plan was still going forward. ‘They’ll find a way to help’, yeah, right. He could handle it himself. He should’ve done so a long time ago.

He pulled a dinner plate out from under his shirt. This’ll take them longer to notice the disappearance of. Long enough for it to be too late… 

Ouma threw the plate to the floor, breaking it into pieces and picked up the sharpest-looking shard. Hopefully, that would be enough. Ouma lightly felt the edge with his finger. It didn’t even cut the skin. He’d have to really jam it in there to make any semblance of damage. Surely, that would hurt. A lot.

Ouma nervously bit on his lip and touched his neck. He was supposed to make a huge slice, and he’d rapidly bleed out. Much faster than if he tried to cut his veins again. Bonus points if he managed to cut the windpipe with the same slice, so he’d choke as well. Though… with something as ineffective as a plate shard, he’d be lucky if he even got one of the main arteries. Not that he was in any position to be picky with his weapon…

With his heart beating as frantically as it was, finding a large pulsing blood vessel was no problem. Everything that came after, however, was. With shaking hands, Ouma pointed the shard at his neck. Everything was fine. It would hurt like hell, but at least it would be quick. He had to do it. For everyone. For his beloveds.

For Momota.

Unable to proceed, Ouma dropped the shard and hid his face in his hands. A failure. A hazard, a useless, selfish coward, a good-for-nothing joke of a leader who couldn’t do anything right. Who could only hurt others and couldn’t even as little as _die_ properly.

Ouma lifted his eyes and looked at the shard. No, he… he was still going to do it. He was just postponing it, because… because Komaeda seemed to have suspected something. He could come to check on Ouma at any second, so it was better to wait for a while.

Yeah… that was the reason.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy.
> 
> **Warning:**  
>  Self-harm/suicide  
> But you probably expected that by now.

Momota sighed and pulled Ouma’s scarf out of his pocket. Was there really no way to make it up to him? He hoped that Ouma would eventually forgive him anyway, but what was he supposed to do in the meantime? Nothing?

He folded the scarf and put it back. Still felt wrong for him to have it…

“Momota-kun!” he heard Komaeda call out. The astronaut turned in the sound’s direction to see him walking closer at a fast pace and glancing around to check if anybody else was nearby. “Found you, finally…” Komaeda sighed with relief. “Have you seen Ouma-kun today?”

“No, I didn’t. He wouldn’t want to see me right now.”

“Yeah, he probably wouldn’t, but… you should go talk to him. Right now.”

“Huh? Why?”

“We ran into each other last night, and… I think he might be at his limit,” Komaeda moved his right hand in a cutting motion near his left wrist.

“Again?”

He nodded. “I made sure none of the knives were missing, so we should be in the clear for now, but probably not for long.”

“Shit… is he in his room?”

“Probably?” Komaeda shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since last night. I don’t think anyone has…”

Without even waiting for him to finish his thought, Momota started walking. He had a bad feeling about all of this…

* * *

Ouma was wasting time. If he’d just stop being a wimp and do it already, everything would’ve ended by now. He’d been gathering up his courage for hours now, picking up the shard, pressing it against his neck only to put it down again after he’s come up with a yet another bullshit excuse to delay his death for a tiny bit longer.

It was morning already. Someone could come by at any time, it was risky to wait any longer than he already has. He couldn’t pretend to stay mad at Momota forever. If he fucked this up, there might not ever be another chance. Wasting this one would be stupid. Cowardly. Selfish. He _had_ to do it, no matter how much he didn’t want to. What kind of excuse even was it, simply ‘not wanting’ to do it? Just how self-centered was he? Willing to risk his beloved’s life just because he was scared? Just because he wanted to stay with Momota? Just because he loved–

Dumbass. What was he even _thinking_ about? His petty little feelings wouldn’t mean a thing if he killed his beloved despite them. It happened once, there was no reason it wouldn’t happen again. What he did to Amami proved that he was still just a killing machine. The only reason Amami survived was because Ouma didn’t have a weapon to finish him off before he snapped out of his killing spree. So, pure luck.

Ouma forced himself to pick up the shard yet again and stared at it in silent dread. It wouldn’t take long. Just one quick slash and everything would be over in a matter of minutes. Maybe even less if he got lucky and passed out from shock. It’d hurt like all hell, but… Ouma had no right to complain about the pain after causing so much suffering to so many people.

With shaking hands, he put the tip of the shard to the side of his neck, right over a frantically pulsing artery, and pointed it so it would pierce both the windpipe and the artery on the other side as it went deeper. He wasn’t getting anywhere by thinking. He just had to do it. He shut his eyes, held his breath, and pushed the shard in with all of his strength.

Ouma immediately collapsed on the floor from the agonizing pain that came in waves in sync with his racing heartbeat. Streams of blood came running down the shard, increasing in their number and intensity with every passing second and with every involuntary movement Ouma made. He couldn’t tell if he was screaming or not, but he probably was. He couldn’t hear himself over the familiar ringing noise that was now dominating his ears. Well, _almost_ dominating. He could still hear his desperate ragged breaths, which suggested that he didn’t even cut his windpipe.

That was bad… he wasn’t done yet. He was losing blood fast, but was it fast enough? What if it wasn’t? Just in case, he had to continue. But he was losing his strength fast… Ouma put his hands back onto the shard and tried to push it further in, only to reflexively retreat from the unbearably sharp pain. Dammit… it was useless. He had to figure out what to do while he still could. Ouma let go of the shard for the time being and tried to think. Think… think…

Something was weird. Like the floor was slightly shaking, then stopping, then shaking again… an earthquake? But they were on a ship… it was too small to be something like that… He could swear there was a low banging sound accompanying the shakes, too. It was barely noticeable because of the deafening ringing, but somehow, Ouma could still hear it…

No, that didn’t matter. He was just getting distracted by his thoughts again. He had to finish the job, one way or another. Maybe if he pulled it out and tried again from the other side, he could do it… With what little consciousness he still had, Ouma slid the shard out of the wound, letting the blood gush freely onto the floor.

The shard slipped out of Ouma’s numb fingers and fell into the pool of blood. Damn… he couldn’t even hold his weapon properly. Was this it? Was he dying? Was that a sign that he did good enough? That he’d suffered enough already? That he could just lie down and let himself pass out to escape the pain? No, he had to keep going. Just in case…

As he was reaching to pick up the shard, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. As if… there was a light coming out of where the door was. Weird. There wasn’t supposed to be a light there, especially such a large amount. It was as if the door wasn’t even there… no, what was he thinking about? Again, he was simply looking for excuses to stop. The light or whatever didn’t matter, he was probably just seeing things anyway… with his last strength, he tried to point the shard at the other artery, but suddenly, something, or rather, some _one_ grabbed his hand.

Ouma tried to look over to see who that someone was, but they were out of his field of vision, and he couldn’t even move his head at this point. Couldn’t hear anything either. All he could feel was someone dragging him out of the pool of blood and firmly pressing onto his neck wound.

“It’s okay… you’ll be okay, I got you…” Momota’s freaked out voice managed to break through the constant ringing. Of all people to see him in this pathetic state… Ouma would’ve preferred it if Momota saw him only after he’d already died. If only Ouma didn’t waste so much time…

Momota stopped moving around so much, and Ouma could finally see his face. It was blurry and almost completely consumed by the darkness in Ouma’s eyes, but it was there. Somehow, it felt comforting. Ouma hated himself for thinking that. Momota must’ve been freaking out, while all Ouma could think about was how happy he was that his beloved’s face was the last thing he’d ever see. How selfish could he get? But still… maybe dying in his beloved’s arms wouldn’t be so bad after all…

“It’s okay,” Momota repeated, probably more to calm himself down than to reassure Ouma. “I’m not gonna let you die...”

Silly Momota… it was too late. At least, Ouma hoped it was. If this failed, he wouldn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t be able to handle trying to die for the fourth time. Well, Ouma must’ve been close, since he had to try his hardest to stay conscious just to look at his beloved’s fading silhouette for as long as he possibly could. His hardest wasn’t enough to keep his eyes from closing, though…

“H-hey! Don’t you dare! Stay with me…”

Ouma wished he could.

* * *

"Shit..." Momota tried his best to stay calm, but he couldn't help but panic seeing Ouma close his eyes. He was still alive – Momota could feel his faint breathing and shivering – but only barely. Worse of all, there was nothing Momota could _do_ other than hold Ouma's cold weak body in his arms, block the bleeding with the scarf, and hope for help to come soon.

He felt so useless. He’d busted down the door as soon as he realized something was wrong, but even that wasn't fast enough... Momota pulled Ouma closer, trying to warm him up a bit, knowing full well there was no point in doing so. He just couldn't do nothing while his beloved was dying right in front of him.

'Beloved'? When did the stupid nickname Ouma gave out seemingly at random begin to feel so natural?

Momota wanted to hear Ouma call him that again.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it Halloween tonight? Happy Halloween, you lucky Halloween-celebrating people from Halloween-celebrating countries~

Momota anxiously paced back and forth in front of the closed infirmary door.

"Everything's gonna be fine!" he yelled, much louder than necessary.

"Y-yeah," Saihara nodded.

"And everything could've been a lot worse!"

"I guess..."

"And he was still alive when Hinata and Komaeda arrived!"

"M-hm."

"So, everything will be fine!"

"Momota, calm down," Harukawa said, voice as composed as ever.

"I _am_ calm! I'm not freaking out, _you're_ freaking out!"

"Either calm down or go shout somewhere else." She nodded in the direction of the door, shooting Momota a harsh look.

"Ah... right..." Momota took a deep breath and sat down on the floor next to his sidekicks. “He’s so dumb…” he muttered. “So fucking stupid… There had to have been a better way to do… whatever it was that he was trying to do…”

Harukawa put her hand over Momota’s, trying to comfort him. “It’s okay, he’ll live. He’s tougher than he looks.”

“You don’t have to tell _me_ that…”

“And he’s already survived an attempt.”

“Yeah, but… This one was really bad. There was so much blood…”

“I know.”

“I’ve never seen arterial bleeding in person before… We barely had any accidents during training…”

“But at least you knew how to deal with it,” Saihara added. “If you weren’t there, Ouma-kun would’ve been gone for sure. He’s going to be okay because _you_ saved him, Momota-kun.”

“Yeah… yeah. Sorry, guys,” Momota tried to laugh it off. “Some role model I’m being right now…”

“It’s really not a big deal–” 

The door finally opened, Momota forgetting about his moping in an instant.

"Ah, you're still here..." Komaeda said, giving the three of them his usual nonchalant smile that made him impossible to read.

"How’s Kichi?" Momota asked, walking up to Komaeda and trying to get a glimpse of the room.

"He's... _alive,"_ he said, but his tone of voice was uncertain, as if he himself wasn't very convinced by his answer. Momota felt a chill running up his spine. Komaeda stepped aside, letting everyone enter. Momota had to practically force himself to start moving.

Somehow, even the air in the infirmary felt different - dense and heavy, still filled with the smell of blood despite the room looking relatively clean. 

Momota's eyes immediately locked onto the bed Ouma was lying in; Hinata was sitting next to it, greeting the astronaut and his sidekicks with a silent, strangely cold stare.

“H-hey, everything went well, right?” Momota asked as he hurried over to the bedside. Ouma lay almost motionless, the only exception being his barely noticeable breathing. His neck was wrapped in bandages and seemed to still be bleeding a bit, judging by the small wet stain on bandages above his wounded flesh. Mounted to the bedframe, there was an IV stand with two plastic bags hanging off it – one filled with blood and another with a transparent liquid – going into Ouma’s arm through thin tubes.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you,” Hinata said, “I did what I could with what I had to work with, but he might still die.” 

“He… might?” Momota looked back at him in disbelief.

“What did you expect? I have many talents, but I’m not a god. With two massive blood losses so soon after another, him being alive _now_ is already an accomplishment.”

He glanced at Komaeda still standing over by the door, who was now waving at Hinata, signaling him to come closer.

“I’ll give you some time,” he said, getting up from his seat. “Get me if anything happens.”

With that, the duo left the room, and an awkward silence took their place. Reluctantly, Momota sat down on the edge of the bed and held Ouma's hand. It was cold, almost corpselike. The only difference was the faint pulse that could be felt in the thin, bony fingers.

He never should’ve left him. Maybe then, everything would have worked out fine. No, not ‘maybe’. Everything _would_ have been fine if Momota had just ignored Ouma’s faked resentment and stayed with him. But how was he supposed to know that it was fake? _Was_ it fake? Even now, looking back at Ouma’s actions, Momota couldn’t fully grasp what his true thoughts and feelings were.

Had Momota ever understood him at all? There was no way Iruma could've been right, was there? All that time he spent with Ouma, that had to have been real, right? It wasn't some elaborate plan to build a false sense of trust between them for Ouma to take advantage of, _right?_

But… if it wasn't fake, why would Ouma be so eager to push Momota away at every opportunity? Weren't they friends? Or 'beloveds', or whatever? Granted, their relationship was confusing at times, but still... Why wouldn't Ouma ever just ask for help? Surely there was something Momota could do...

"Hey, so..." Harukawa broke the silence. "Can I ask you guys something?”

“What is it?” Saihara responded.

“This might sound weird, but is this something people _normally_ come up with when planning suicide?"

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it's not really a common method, is it? Normally you'd go for cutting the wrists, or hanging, or an overdose... why choose something so difficult to pull off? Not to mention painful.”

“He already tried the wrists,” Momota said. “One wrist, that is...”

“So? He still had the other one. Why would–”

“Harumaki,” he interrupted. “No offense, but what's your problem?”

“Sorry...” she lowered her eyes, regret clear on her face. “It's just... It’s weird. It's probably a coincidence, but... that's how the Holy Salvation Society taught us to die if we didn't have any poison on our hands.”

“Huh?”

“Except... the point was to cut both arteries and the windpipe in one fast continuous slice, supposedly killing you almost instantly.”

“Wait, wait... What does the Holy Salvation have to do with this?”

“Like I said, it's probably a coincidence. Forget I said anything. Sorry for bringing it up.”

No, something about this felt right. Ouma _was_ trying to cut himself further, as if what he _did_ manage to do wasn’t enough. Not to mention… once the Holy Salvation was introduced to the equation, little pieces of the puzzle, meaningless on their own, finally started to fit into a bigger picture. His seemingly uncontrollable fighting skills, his utter hate for assassins specifically, the way he avoided talking about his past that, from Momota could tell, was absolutely terrifying…

…And the death of the eleventh member.

Could Ouma have been the one who killed him? That would explain why he refused to tell Momota anything other than the vaguest general gist of what happened…

Ouma didn’t mean to kill ‘him’.

That’s what he said, right? At the time, Momota simply brushed it off because he had no idea what the supreme leader was talking about. Back then, Ouma was a closed book to him. But everything was different now. _Now_ Momota had an unclear, fuzzy idea of what happened, but it was an idea nonetheless, even if it was hopefully wrong.

And suddenly, something Momota had long since forgotten about confirmed it all far beyond his doubts.

“Hey, Shuichi...” he turned to his sidekick, “has Kichi ever mentioned how he knew that Harumaki was an assassin?”

“Wasn't that because of his connections as the Ultimate Supre–” Saihara covered his mouth as he was hit with the same realization. _“Oh.”_

“Yeah... He had no connections. The only way he could've known about the Holy Salvation...”

“...is if he himself was a part of it,” Saihara finished. “But, wait, maybe there's some other explanation. Maybe he managed to get into Harukawa-san's research lab–”

“Out of the question,” she cut off.

“Any other thoughts?” Momota asked. “Anything that can debunk this?”

“Well… If he was from Holy Salvation, wouldn’t Harukawa-san have recognized him as well?”

“Not necessarily,” she shrugged. “None of us really interacted with each other back there. If recognized me, then it’s more likely that he knew me from all the way back in the orphanage. With the rare exception, I pretty much ignored all of the kids my age, so I wouldn’t have recognized anyone from there even if I tried.”

Then… was that it? Was this the explanation that Momota was trying to find?

He looked down at Ouma again. Everything about it made too much sense to be wrong. Then, all of Ouma’s hatred towards killers, especially assassins… All of that he directed at himself, first and foremost. He lived his life despising himself for being something that he was forced to become. For something he had no control over…

“Momota-kun,” Saihara insisted. “Are you sure about this? What about DICE? How do they play into all this? And Ouma-kun doesn’t act like an assassin. Sure, he can fight, but he doesn’t give off the impression of someone who was _trained_ to kill. Back when he knocked out Amami-kun, he was _scared._ That wasn’t acting, either. He wouldn’t have lasted long at the Holy Salvation.”

“That doesn’t completely disprove it,” Harukawa objected. “Everybody’s scared at first. I was too. Disregard for human life comes from experience, not training.”

“But…”

“I’m not sure either, Shuichi. It’s just… If this theory is correct, then some things would make a lot more sense. But that’s all it is – a theory. With no solid proof, no less. All we can do is wait for Kichi to wake up and ask him directly.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Harukawa asked. “At least give him some time first.”

Momota clutched his fist. “No. _This–”_ he threw a fierce glance in Ouma’s direction– “is what happens when I give him time. He always manages to hurt himself further. If not physically, then mentally. He’ll just drive himself insane while we ‘give him time’. I have to confront him, the sooner the better. Or else this shit is only going to get worse.” 

Momota tried his best to ignore his inner dread as well as the anxious voice inside his head that kept adding _‘if_ he wakes up’ to the end of every sentence.

* * *

What came next was waiting. Lots and lots of waiting. Painfully long minutes that turned into hours that turned into days, the majority of which Momota spent by Ouma’s bed, holding his hand, hoping that he would somehow sense the astronaut’s presence. Though, even if he did, that didn’t improve his condition in any way.

“Come on, wake up…” Momota muttered. “Didn’t you tell me that you were used to almost dying? This should be no big deal for you… Come back so I can kick your ass for trying to die in the first place…”

He intertwined his fingers with Ouma’s and stared at them with empty eyes. “Don’t you know how painful it is to see your beloved die? Isn’t that what tipped you over the edge in the first place?”

Without really thinking, Momota leaned in closer and gently kissed Ouma’s hand.

“I’ll wait for as long as you need, just… don’t leave me, okay?”


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay~ I'll try to get the next one out sooner. The keyword is try.
> 
> **Chapter warning:**  
>  Self-hate

The feeling of being in complete darkness, not just because there was no light, but because there wasn’t anything at all – Ouma knew that weird, dream-like feeling. It was the same thing last time, too. Yet, something felt off this time. Not the darkness, not the annoying, stinging pain in the right side of his neck, not even the fact that he was supposed to be dead already. He had an uneasy feeling he couldn’t explain. A feeling like he was… forgetting something.

“So you finally did it, huh?” a familiar voice asked from behind Ouma, prompting him to turn around. He saw his beloved right-hand man, or, rather, what he imagined he would look like if his life hadn’t been cut short. Still in his ever unchanging DICE uniform and even taller than he used to be, he now practically towered over Ouma. His once short and perky ponytail of light blonde hair now fell under its own weight and reached his shoulders. He was just standing there with a carefree smile, like nothing had ever happened...

"Heya, beloved," Shio said, walking closer to Ouma. "Long time no see."

This... wasn't real, right? No way it could've been. Must've been a dream, or a hallucination, or whatever it is that the brain creates before death. But... even if that's all it was, Ouma didn't really mind.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Shio lovingly cupped Ouma’s cheek and bowed down, touching foreheads with him. “I know there’s a lot you want to say.”

That was the problem. He wanted to say _something,_ but he had no idea what. He’d spent all those years wishing he could see Shio just one more time, but now that he was here, all of the conversations he’d had in his head suddenly vanished. Now, all he could think of was...

"I'm sorry..." Ouma muttered, feeling his eyes tearing up.

Shio let out a small laugh. "It's okay, Kokichi," he playfully nuzzled Ouma’s hair. "It wasn't your fault. I know you were only trying to protect DICE. I should've just told you what I was going to do from the beginning. It was wrong of me to hide things from you…”

“No, you… you were trying to do what’s best for DICE too… If you’d told me what your plan was, there’s no way I would’ve let you go through with it…”

“And look where the plan got me. It was a stupid move, Kokichi. You would’ve been right in stopping me. I should’ve just followed your orders. You always knew what the best course of action was..."

Shio's expression suddenly darkened, and he pushed Ouma away. "Is that what you thought I'd say?"

"S-Shio... chan?" Ouma took a few steps back cautious and wary.

"Not your fault? Yeah, _right._ What happened to not killing anyone? Let alone a member of DICE? Your right-hand man? Your _beloved?!_ What happened to _trusting_ me?!"

"Trusting you? You outright told me you betrayed me!" Ouma snapped back.

"And how much more obvious was I supposed to make it that I was _lying?!"_ Shio yelled.

“Well, sorry for being an idiot back then!” Ouma lowered his head. “I’ve changed. Really, I have… I’m better at spotting lies now…”

“Oh, why didn’t you say so?! That fixes everything! Rejoice, everyone! None of the horrible things that we’ve endured matter now, because Kokichi is slightly less stupid than he was as a kid! Amazing what growing up does to you, huh? Too bad you _killed me_ before I got the chance to experience that!”

“I already told you that I’m sorry! I can’t change what I did…”

"And,” Shio continued, ignoring Ouma’s attempts at explaining himself, “even if I _did_ betray you, how does that suddenly make killing me okay? The only traitor here is _you,_ Kokichi. _You_ betrayed DICE. You couldn't even follow one simple rule that you yourself created. To think we considered you our leader... What a joke..."

"Stop..." All Ouma could do was shut his eyes and cover his ears, but of course, that didn't make Shio's words any harder to hear.

"And you know what? You didn't just kill me, you killed _everyone._ With you gone, who do you think would lead DICE? Itsuya? Seiko? Maybe Kyoshi? As _if._ I was the only competent replacement, and you _know it._ Good job dooming your entire family, Kokichi. Good job. Really, it's impressive how badly you managed to fuck everything up."

This wasn't real. _He_ wasn't real. The real Shio would never say something like that...

"Are you sure about that, 'beloved'? Aren't you just trying to make yourself feel better by pretending that your fuck-ups don't exist? That you're not a brainless killing machine? That you haven't hurt any of those cretins you so offhandedly replaced me with?"

_Replaced?_

"Yeah, don't think I haven't noticed. You're just clinging onto whoever reminds you of me even a tiny bit and forcing the 'beloved' label onto them. Did our relationship mean nothing to you? Or are you just _that_ desperate for someone to love you? You're pathetic."

"You're wrong... Momota-chan is different..."

"Oh, so you're not even trying to deny it with the other two? Interesting. But hey, at least you killed yourself before your _precious_ Momota-chan could've gotten hurt by you, right?"

Yeah... Yeah. That was the goal. Ouma managed to save Momota, at least...

"Drop the bullshit already."

"What?"

"How stupid are you pretending to be, Kokichi? Aren't you using your newest crush as an excuse? Stop acting like you don't realize that your death is going to hurt him. It will. _Very_ much so. He'll be devastated, especially after he saw you do it. He'll think it's his fault that you died. But you don't care. All you care about is yourself. All you care about is how you can play the victim and run from your problems. It's amazing that those cretins were able to keep pretending to give a fuck about someone like you."

"They weren't pretending..."

"Then that just makes it worse! If they actually care about you, how do you think they're going to react when their _beloved_ Kokichi dies? By suicide, no less. Something they _know_ you tried before. Don't you realize how guilty they're gonna feel? Of course you do. You're not an idiot. You're just selfish."

Ouma didn't know how to respond. He had no rebuttal. No excuse. He was simply standing there, in complete silence, under his beloved's judgmental glare.

"What about the two of those Hope's Peak guys?" Shio finally asked.

"What about them?"

"Gee, well, I dunno, you only decided to die while they're responsible for you, no big deal. I'm sure it'll work out fine for them."

"I don't care about them..."

"All you had to do was wait the first time, refuse to go to the island, and then die without anyone noticing like the pathetic, useless street rat that you are! What happened to those planning skills, Kokichi? You couldn't wait a few days? Or did you want to go out with a bang, you attention-craving brat?! Was the bang of the press not loud enough for you?!"

"I didn't know it would all work out like this..."

"Oh, you knew _exactly_ what was going to happen. You're just playing dumb because you don't want to admit that you're in the wrong."

Why wasn’t this over already? How much longer was he supposed to be tortured by his own thoughts? Was he not dead yet? Wasn’t his brain supposed to shut down?

“See? What did I tell you? There you are, trying to run away again. Pathetic.”

‘Pathetic’… No, that wasn’t right. Ouma was much worse than pathetic.

* * *

Momota felt Ouma trying to clench his hand in his sleep, bringing the astronaut out of the daze he had found himself in after doing nothing but waiting for so long.

"It's okay... I'm here..." he carefully ran his fingers through Ouma's hair, trying to comfort him. Could he even hear him? Could he feel anything at all, for that matter? At least after a few days passed, he looked more like he was actually sleeping and not dead...

Although, Momota wasn’t sure which of the two was better. As usual, Ouma’s sleep seemed to be filled with nightmares, but this time, the astronaut’s presence didn’t help in the slightest. To say that he felt useless would be an understatement.

With a heavy sigh, Momota laid his head onto the bed. He hated everything about this. He missed Ouma so much… He never realized how much he'd gotten used to having him around. Even though he was right there, within Momota's reach, it wasn't even remotely the same. He wanted to hear his voice, to see his smug grin, to hold him close and tell him everything was going to be okay...

...To kiss him. Momota had no idea someone’s lips could be so enticing…

He shook his head. What was he thinking about, all of a sudden? How could he think about something like that when his friend was lying unconscious, struggling for his life? It was probably just the stress getting the best of him… Yeah. That must have been it. Everything would go back to normal as soon as Ouma woke up.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner," I said, right before burning myself out

Hinata glanced at the time before putting his phone away. It was just past midnight. Still the whole night to go. He sighed.

"You sure about this?" Komaeda, standing nearby, tilted his head to the side.

“I'm just keeping watch in case Ouma wakes up. It'd be bad if he was left alone for too long..." Hinata glanced back at his boyfriend. "You should go to bed. I'll be here all night."

Komaeda shook his head. "I'm supposed to keep you company, aren't I? You said so yourself."

"Fine, fine... Just don't fall asleep. I'm not going to carry you back to our room if you do."

"Hinata-kun, you're mean..." Komaeda whined, even though both of them knew full well that Hinata's threat was empty.

"...This was supposed to be a simple job," Hinata said after a bit of silence. "Just escort the class someplace safe. I wasn't supposed to be sewing someone's artery back together..."

"Kamukura-kun was the one who did that, though."

"I still had to _watch._ And feel.”

Komaeda inched closer and laid his head on Hinata’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Don’t think about that too much. You did great. Everything will work out. Ouma-kun will wake up, we’ll get home and we’ll go back to our peaceful lives. It’s not long now.”

“…Yeah… you’re right,” Hinata muttered, already feeling his anxiety dissipate under his boyfriend’s touch. “Hey… thanks for tagging along with me.”

Komaeda smiled. “Happy to be here.”

* * *

Momota sighed as he looked at the infirmary door in front of him. Another day was starting; another day he was fully prepared to spend by Ouma's bed, waiting for something, _anything_ to change. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but he would've welcomed _any_ change at this point.

He reached for the handle when the door suddenly opened, and Komaeda almost bumped into him as he left the room.

"Ah, Momota-kun," he smiled and stepped off to the side, letting the other come in. "Good timing. I was just about to get you."

"Get me? Why d-"

Momota lost his train of thought when his eyes locked onto the bed. Ouma was awake. He was sitting curled up against the wall, his face obscured by his arms.

"Kichi?" Momota walked closer.

No reaction. He didn’t even lift up his head to look at the astronaut.

“He’s been like this since he woke up,” Hinata explained. “Just sitting there, ignoring everything. Though, I guess we can’t blame him…” He stepped closer to Momota and lowered his voice a bit. “Hey, can I leave him to you? Maybe if it’s just the two of you, he’ll be less… tense.”

Momota nodded. If he was honest, he wanted to have a one-on-one with Ouma anyway.

“Okay,” Hinata gave him what seemed to be a reassuring smile. “See ya. I’ll be around.”

With that, he left the room, Komaeda following behind, leaving Momota and Ouma alone in an empty, silent infirmary.

“Hey,” the astronaut said, sitting down on the bed, keeping his distance from the supreme leader. “You okay there?”

No response.

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t be…”

Momota was at a loss for what he was supposed to do. He _was_ going to confront Ouma about everything he and his sidekicks managed to figure out, but… Even though he was set on doing it at the first possible opportunity, was _now_ really a good time? He wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Are you mad?” Ouma’s barely audible voice finally broke the silence.

“H-huh?” It took Momota a second to understand what the other was talking about.

“That I tried to die again. Are you mad about that?” he repeated.

Was he? He was frustrated, that was for sure. Frustrated that he couldn’t protect his friend. That he let something so awful happen again. That Ouma manipulated him into keeping himself at bay when he could’ve done _something._

Momota took a deep breath. “…Yeah,” he said after a brief pause. “I am. But I'm just glad you're alive, more than anything…” His voice cracked. Shit… He hoped he would be able to keep his cool. “You scared me so bad…”

Ouma finally raised his head. “Sorry about that… You weren’t supposed to see me… you know…”

_“That’s_ what you’re apologizing for?” Momota had to hold himself back from shouting. “You think I care more about seeing you try to stab yourself than I do about almost losing you?”

Ouma lowered his eyes, falling silent again.

The astronaut clutched his fist. This wasn’t good… He was too on edge. If he went any further, then he’d just scare Ouma into silence again. He had to calm down and be rational...

Everything about Ouma at the moment – from his posture to how little he spoke – made it obvious that he was desperately trying to shut everyone and everything out, even more so than usual. Momota had to act _now,_ before Ouma had the chance to make himself any more miserable. There was no doubt that it would hurt him, but waiting and doing nothing would hurt him a lot more...

“Hey,” Momota said in the softest tone he could manage. “I’ll ask for the last time. Will you tell me why you’re doing this?”

“I told you…” Ouma muttered. “I have to. Or things will get worse.”

So, the easy way was off the table… Bit by bit, Momota moved closer and closer to the supreme leader, until he was within reach, and carefully pulled him into an embrace. For a moment, Ouma seemed like he was about to protest, but then changed his mind and just laid his head onto Momota’s chest.

“Kichi, listen,” he said, hugging Ouma a bit tighter. “You know I care about you. I think you’re a good person, you’re my friend, and I wouldn’t trade you for the stars. What I’m about to ask isn’t going to change that, okay?” He took a deep breath. “Are you trying to protect us from yourself because you’re an assassin?”

He felt a shiver course through Ouma’s body, shortly followed by two wet drops falling from his face to Momota’s legs.

“Bull’s-eye, huh?” he sighed. “I’ll keep going then. You lived at the same orphanage as Harumaki. The Holy Salvation thing picked you, but you escaped, founded DICE, killed the eleventh member who was your beloved at the time, and have hated yourself for that ever since. Does that sound about right? …So, there. I figured it out. You don’t have to hide it anymore. From me, at least.”

Ouma took a couple of ragged breaths as he vainly tried to calm himself down.

Momota gently patted his head. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Everything will be fine, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yes, I did,” Ouma managed to say through his sobs. “I was supposed to protect DICE. All I did was destroy their lives.”

“No, you _didn’t._ I’m sure they all miss you.”

“Don’t act like you know what it was like. They could’ve lived normal lives if I wasn’t so selfish…”

“What do you mean?”

Ouma shook his head. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to pressure him to open up about his past when he was already on the verge of a panic attack.

“Okay,” Momota said. “That can wait.”

“You’re selfish too, you know…” Ouma muttered. “Keeping me alive against my will like that…”

_“Is it_ your will, though? Or did you just convince yourself that you have no other option?”

“Don’t you get that I might kill _you_ too?”

“Kichi,” Momota cupped Ouma’s cheek and lifted his head, making him look the astronaut in the eyes. “Be honest with yourself for once. Tell me what you want. Not what you think is right, not what you think it is that you deserve, but what you _want.”_

“I want to protect you, you idiot. Couldn’t you figure that out on your own?”

“But that’s not what you _actually_ want, is it?”

Ouma averted his eyes, unable to take the other’s intense stare. “W-whatever,” he muttered, trying to push the astronaut away. “What does it matter anyway, it’s not like ‘wanting’ anything is–”

_“Kichi,”_ Momota insisted.

“I…” Ouma hesitantly bit his lip. _“want_ to… stay with you, Momota-chan.” His eyes started to tear up. “I hate my life, but you make it more bearable, somehow. Sometimes, so bearable I even get it into my head that I could actually be happy. I… I think I love you, Momota-chan. I don’t know how long this feeling will last, but… right now, it’s all I can think about.”

Momota’s mind went blank for a second. While he _was_ vaguely aware of the supreme leader’s feelings, he didn’t expect to get a full-on love confession like that…

“That was too sudden, wasn’t it?” Ouma covered his face with a hand in embarrassment. “Forget I– No, there’s no way you’d forget something like that… Just try to ignore it, okay? I–”

Without thinking, Momota leaned forward and connected his lips to Ouma’s. He felt how the smaller boy’s body flinched in surprise but soon relaxed, giving in to the astronaut's kiss. Ouma's warm timid breaths, his otherworldly violet eyes, the occasional accidental touching of their tongues – they completely filled Momota's mind, getting it drunk on completely new emotions he wouldn't be able to explain even if he wanted to.

Slowly, Ouma broke away from the kiss, wide-eyed as he processed what just happened. “So…” he said, lightly touching his lips with his fingers, “does that mean that you feel the same, or…”

“I… guess?” Momota felt his cheeks heating up. “Listen, this is all new territory for me,” he said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. “I just did what I wanted to. I don't know if that means that I love you or something, but… just now, t-the kiss. It felt good.”

Ouma reached behind his back for the pillow and buried his face in it. “Dumbass…”

“And as for everything else,” Momota continued, “We'll get through this. Together. We'll figure something out. I will make your wish come true. I promise. So…” he lowered his eyes. “Stop saying that you have to die. Nobody wants you to. I certainly don't.”

Ouma lowered the pillow a bit and looked at Momota with bored, slightly judgmental eyes. “You just don't get that I'm dangerous, do you?”

“I do. I just don't care.”

“You saw what I did to Amami-chan, right? That could've been you, you know.”

“He's _fine._ You're overreacting.”

“How am I overreacting? I killed my beloved who I knew for years, I think I have the right to be wary. That's not overreacting, that's me being aware of what I'm capable of.”

“But that was a long time ago, wasn't it? Who knows, maybe you're not as skilled now as you were back then.”

“Do you really want to push your luck with that?” Ouma sighed. “Fine. We’ll see how this goes. But, Momota-chan… If you really accept me, then… don’t ever lie to me, okay? Or do anything behind my back. Even if you think that the truth will make me mad.”

“Of course. But the same goes for you, too. No more secrets, okay? Even if they are for my sake. We won't get anywhere if I have to figure everything out on my own. If there's something wrong, tell me right away, no matter how stupid or trivial it is.”

Ouma nodded. “Also, by the way, that kiss was sloppy as all hell,” he said, a familiar smirk slipping onto his face.

“Dude, shut up,” Momota laughed. “That was my first, give me a break. Guess you'll have to teach me, huh?”

Ouma buried his face in the pillow again, this time in an attempt to hide his blush.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the delay ;; I don't even have an excuse this time around, other than getting distracted by other fic ideas >-> Anyway, thank you all for being patient with me

Ouma had no idea he was even capable of such stupidity.

What was he thinking? What was he doing? How was a love confession supposed to accomplish anything? All it was going to do was make things complicated and awkward…

Yet, the mere thought of Momota accepting made Ouma feel all warm inside. Made him want to kiss the astronaut again, to hug him, to cling to him and never let go, and maybe, against all odds, things would turn out okay.

Again, Ouma was getting distracted by stupid wishful thinking. He was supposed to have died, and a long time ago at that. What was he doing, feeling _relieved_ that he’d stayed alive? 

Distracted by his thoughts, he tripped over his feet, and if it wasn’t for Momota supporting his shoulders, he would’ve fallen for sure.

“Careful,” he stopped walking, letting Ouma catch his breath. “You sure you're okay?”

“Yeah, just…” he let go of Momota and leaned on a nearby wall. “Give me a minute.”

“I can carry you back if you want me to.”

Ouma shook his head. “I don't want to stay there.”

“To your room, then?”

The thought of staying cooped up in a small, dark, practically empty room for any longer than he already had been was enough to make Ouma nauseous.

“No… that'd be even worse.”

“… _My_ room?” Momota suggested unsurely.

“Aren't they all the same?”

“More or less.”

“Then no.”

Momota sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “You do realize that you'll have to sleep in one of those rooms eventually, right?”

“That's fine. I can take sleeping. But until then, I'd rather be _anywhere_ else.”

“I’ll stay with you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s not it.”

“If you say so,” Momota shrugged. “Just don’t push yourself too hard.”

Ouma bit his lip. He _wasn’t_ pushing himself. That was the problem. He was supposed to pull himself together and plan out his actions. What Momota said to him didn’t change anything. At least… it shouldn’t have. But if so, why was Ouma doing the exact opposite of what he was supposed to be doing? Just because it was what he felt like doing, consequences be damned? What kind of petty excuse was _that_ supposed to be?

“Kichi?” Momota brushed a loose strand off of Ouma’s face, trying to get his attention. “You’re spacing out.”

“Ah, no, it’s fine… I’m fine.” He forced out his best attempt at a smile. “Anyway, uh, I’ll tag along with you for the time being. You just do whatever.”

“Sure…” Momota muttered. “Well, we’ll get you something to eat, first of all. You gotta be starving. Then–” he stopped mid-sentence, thinking something over. “No, wait. Everyone should be in the dining room right about now. We’ll have to wait for a bit if we want to avoid them…”

“No, it’s fine,” Ouma interrupted without thinking.

A short pause. “It is?” Momota asked, sounding confused.

Ouma responded with a hesitant nod. 

“You're fine with them seeing you like this?”

He wasn't. He really, really wasn't. His condition at the moment wasn't even the main problem, but rather… How was he supposed to look everyone in the eye now that his past was out of the bag? Even if Momota hadn't told them yet, it was only a matter of time before he did. And even without that, there was no way they didn't know about Amami.

He couldn't do it. Everyone would just hate him even more now. In a way, it was a good thing - preferred, even. But… being everyone's scapegoat still hurt. He should just back out while he still had the chance…

But, against all rational thinking, he nodded his head again.

“Kichi…” Momota muttered with a shocked expression, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Then, his face lit up and he pulled Ouma into a hug. “Kichi!” he excitedly nuzzled the smaller boy's hair. “You're doing so good! I know it's hard for you, I'm so proud...”

No… No, no, no, all of this was wrong. This was the exact opposite of what he should've been doing. But Momota's hugs, his praise – it all felt so good. Almost too good. Ouma knew he didn't deserve it, but how was he supposed to resist?

“It'll all be fine, y'hear?” Momota continued. “I'll protect you. If anyone even looks at you funny, they'll have to deal with me. With Harumaki, too.”

What did Harukawa have to do with any of this? Wouldn't she be even more pissed off at Ouma than usual? Even if the whole mess that happened at the hangar didn’t matter anymore, he still took the guy she loved away from her… And in more ways than one, considering what had just happened  
“Hey…” Momota gently ran his hand through Ouma's hair. “Tell me if it gets too much for you. Or if you feel worse. Or anything at all, we'll leave right away."

“…Stop,” Ouma finally muttered.

“Huh?”

“Stop being so nice to me,” he said, pushing Momota away. “I know you don’t care about anything I did, or at least act like you don’t, but… That's just… wrong.”

Momota sighed. “Kichi. About half of the people on this ship have killed people before. Intentionally. We're going to an island populated exclusively by the ex-terrorists who may have sort of ended the world. What you did isn’t so bad in comparison.”

“Geez…” Ouma groaned. “Was that supposed to make me feel better? ‘Cus it didn’t. Because you can’t compare what I did to any of that. Like you said, they killed intentionally. I had no control over that shit. I still don’t.” 

Momota looked off to the side and rubbed the back of his head, thinking to himself. “Forget the big picture for now,” he finally said. “Think about this moment, here and now. You’re barely walking. There’s nothing you can possibly do to hurt me. So, just for now, stop worrying over everything and relax. Can you do that?”

“That’s it?” Ouma raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me to just ignore the problem altogether? And what are we supposed to do once I get better, smartass?”

“I told you I’d make your wish come true, didn’t I? So, I want you to trust me and let me handle everything for now. I’ll figure something out.”

Ouma felt a slight chill running down his spine. “I don’t like the sound of that…” he muttered. “You’ve already thought of something, haven’t you? You just don’t want to tell me.”

“I… have a hunch.”

“Then tell me about it.”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Even more reason to tell me,” Ouma clicked his tongue. “Come on. We’ve been over this.”

“Well…” Momota hesitated. “I’ve been thinking… I’m not really an expert on all that… assassin crap. I have no idea what you’ve been through, and I have no idea how to deal with it all. So maybe we should just ask someone who actually knows about this stuff?”

“Oh,” Ouma narrowed his eyes as what Momota said started to sink in. “You were right. I _don’t_ like this idea.” 

“Told ya.”

Ouma bit his nail. As embarrassing and awkward as asking Harukawa for help was, what were his other options? Other than dying, that is… He wasn’t sure how she could help, but at least it was a place to start. Better than nothing…

“Fine,” he said, looking up at Momota again.

“Huh?”

“We’ll try your idea, and if nothing good comes out of it, it’ll be your fault.”

Momota nodded. “Deal.”

“And… you’ll be the one to ask her,” Ouma mumbled as he stepped closer to the astronaut again and clung onto him for support. “I mean, she’s your sidekick, you should be the one to deal with her…”

“Sure,” he responded with a reassuring smile. “Ah, by the way, do you want your scarf back? To cover up… you know,” he nodded towards Ouma’s bandaged neck.

The scarf… Ouma had almost forgotten about it. So Momota had kept it after all. The thought alone made the warm feeling in his chest come back. Even if it was under the pretense of trading the scarf for the jacket, even if Ouma had practically forced Momota to accept it, if he still had it, then… he wasn’t _completely_ against the idea of joining DICE… right?

“It’s… fine,” Ouma said. “It’s not like what I did is a secret. Besides, I gave it to you. Wouldn’t be right to take it back.”

“If you say so.”

Ouma nodded. For once, he wholeheartedly hoped that Momota _wasn’t_ as oblivious as he always seemed to be.

* * *

“I swear, Tojo-san's cooking just keeps getting better every day!”

“I try my best.”

“Nyahaha! May God bless us with yet another beautiful day!”

Harukawa sighed and took a long sip of her coffee, ignoring the forced attempts at small talk.

"This is dull," she said, quietly enough for only Saihara, who was sitting close by, to hear.

He nodded. "That's what happens when two of our liveliest people are gone."

“Want to go visit them after this?”

“I guess…” he shrugged.

As if in response, the door opened and the two boys walked in, the dining room falling silent around them.

“Sup,” Momota grinned.

Another second of silence, after which Akamatsu loudly cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

“One, two!” she exclaimed.

On cue, everybody stood up from their seats, turned to Ouma's direction and bowed.

“Sorry for treating you poorly!” they all said in unison.

It felt forced. Even Akamatsu herself had to realize that. Well, this was the best their group of stubborn immature juveniles could manage. Bad, but better than nothing. Harukawa would have to apologize properly to Ouma later... Though, she had to admit a part of her couldn't help but hope that just this small gesture was enough.

Harukawa looked up a bit, trying to get a glimpse of the two's reaction. The apology certainly caught them off-guard, for all that's worth.

Saihara raised his head and gave the supreme leader a shy smile. “Ouma-kun. Welcome back.”


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a yet another delay ;; those seem to have become the norm at this point, huh. Thank you for not giving up on me, y'all. Bear with me for just a little longer

“What do you want from me, exactly?” Harukawa tilted her head to the side.

Momota shrugged. “Dunno... Help, advice… Anything, really.”

“Being an assassin doesn’t mean that I know any better than you two. You’re the one that knows him the best out of all of us. Not to mention that you’re generally better with people.”

“None of that helps when _I_ only have a vague idea of what he’s been through, and _he’s_ too traumatized to talk about it.”

Ouma raised his knees up to his chest. It was kind of weird to listen to the two teens talking about him as if he wasn’t even there. Though, he had to admit that he _was_ pretty out of it. He didn’t expect just going through the motions of breakfast to be so exhausting… Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Maybe he should’ve taken a day or two to rest, as unbearably boring as it would’ve been…

What _had_ happened at breakfast, anyway? It’s like he’d already forgotten. Or, rather, zoned out before most of the memories could register. He remembered the mass apology, he remembered almost getting suffocated in Gonta’s hug while Momota desperately tried to get him out, he remembered meeting eyes with Iruma only for both of them to awkwardly look away. Everything else was a blur. All he could gather was that eventually everyone had left to do their own thing. Well, everyone but him, Momota, and the sidekicks, that is.

“…Still, you should have a better idea of how all this works,” the astronaut’s voice managed to make its way into Ouma’s train of thought, catching his attention.

“Maybe so, but...” Harukawa let out a quiet, frustrated grunt. “The thing is, all I know is what _I’ve_ been put through by the Holy Salvation, and you _really_ wouldn't like it if I tried to pull anything like that with him. Neither would Ouma. Frankly, I wouldn’t either. I’d rather not remind myself of that hell any more than I have to. And even if we ignored that and tried anyway, there’s no saying that it would make the situation better. It could mess him up even further, for all I know.”

“So, basically, you got nothing either, huh…”

“Pretty much. Guys like him don't last very long as assassins, you know? It'd be better if you don't think of him as one.”

“I never have. _He's_ the one who does. That’s the problem.”

They were right. Ouma _wasn’t_ an assassin. He was worse. He was a runaway failure that couldn’t even use the skills he was taught to do something good. Maybe if he’d stayed, he could’ve at least been somewhat useful. Or maybe he would’ve just died at the Holy Salvation. That would’ve been better for everyone. That way, DICE would’ve never been created and his family could have had a normal life…

“Hey, Ouma,” Harukawa’s cold voice made him perk up and finally pay attention. Shit, did he zone out again? He didn’t even know what they were talking about just now.

“Yeah?”

“Any thoughts on what _exactly_ made you hurt Amami? Just so we know what to avoid.”

“I, uh…” he tried to think back to that moment. Wasn’t it just a few days ago? It already felt like an eternity had passed… “I guess because a whole bunch of things went completely against any of my plans, one after another? I think that pushed me to the edge a bit…”

“Also, Amami-kun touched your wrist, right?” Saihara added. “Your… _injured_ one?”

“Oh yeah…” Ouma instinctively covered it with his other hand. “That did happen.”

“Did it hurt or something?” Momota asked.

“No, it’s just…” he nervously bit his lip. He had to practically force out every word. “I didn’t want anyone to see it, so… I kind of freaked out when Amami-chan grabbed it.”

“Is that why you still haven’t removed those?” Saihara nodded towards the bandages peeking out from underneath Ouma’s hand.

“You should probably take those off,” Harukawa added. “Or at least replace them. Could be bad for you to wear the same ones for too long.”

Ouma looked down at his arm. He didn’t want to take them off. He really, _really_ didn’t want to. He knew it was terrible under there, he could feel the ridges of the scars even through layers of the bandages. He’d be better off never seeing them, even if it meant living with an uncomfortable lump of cloth around his wrist for the rest of his life…

“Sure,” he muttered as he began rolling up his sleeve.

What the fuck was he doing? This was a bad idea. A horrible idea. It didn’t matter if keeping the bandages on could be ‘bad for him’ in the long run, he wouldn’t live long enough for it to matter. If anything, it could serve as extra motivation for him to finally finish himself off…

Ouma shook his head, hoping that would make his thoughts shut up. No. No, no, no, he was tired of this. Tired of looking for opportunities to die, tired of being scared all the goddamn time, tired of that _fucking_ voice in his head that never did anything but make Ouma’s life miserable. When was the last time listening to what the voice said ‘was right’ actually led to anything good? Was there _ever_ such a time? Has any decision Ouma made so far in his short, pathetic life even half-way decent? How long was it going to take him to finally realize that he was so ridiculously incompetent he couldn’t even manage to kill himself? 

“Kichi…” Momota carefully put his arm around Ouma’s shoulders. “You okay?”

He realized that he’d been staring blankly at his still bandaged, shaking wrist for quite a while now. He still couldn’t bring himself to unwrap it. After a moment of hesitation, he held out his arm to Momota.

“T-there,” he said, turning away his head. “You do it.”

“Ah, s-sure…”

Bit by bit, Ouma could feel the pressure on his wrist loosen until finally, there was none.

The last piece of bandage falling to the floor became the cue for a long, awkward silence. Ouma didn’t know what he’d expected, really. He’d at least hoped that someone would say something, anything to give him a reason to delay looking at his wrist just a little while longer.

Unable to take any more of the silence, he looked over to his left, only to see exactly what he’d expected. Hideous dark parallel lines covered most of his forearm. The careful stitches that held each wound together were relatively subtle, but that did little to help when the cuts themselves stood out this much. The scars contrasted sharply against his sickly pale skin, destroying any semblance of hope that they wouldn’t draw attention to themselves. Just looking at them made Ouma nauseous as the memories of lying alone in a cold alley he’d suppressed came flooding back. The fact that he’d have to live the rest of his life with a mutilated arm only made the matters worse. If his wrist was this revolting, he was afraid to find out what his neck looked like.

He felt the shaking in his body start to intensify, enough that it could become noticeable if he didn’t do anything. Too distressed to care about Saihara or Harukawa being there, he tore his eyes away from his arm and turned to the only source of comfort that he had – he clung to Momota. 

“Hey, hey…” the astronaut wrapped his arms around Ouma and held him even closer. So soft… so cozy. He could feel his racing heartbeat calming down, even if just a little. 

“It’s okay, I got you,” the astronaut gently whispered near Ouma’s ear. “Is it because of the scars? It’s okay, it… It’s not even that bad.”

Ouma couldn’t even say anything. It took all of his strength and concentration to avoid breaking down right then and there.

Momota gave him a quick peck on the forehead before backing off just a bit. He held his left hand and rolled the sleeve back down. “There, see? Covers everything up. No one will notice. And I’ll make sure nobody even comes close to touching them. I’ll protect you, ‘kay? Or protect _everyone else_ from you, if that’s how you’re looking at things.” He wiped away a couple of tears that managed to escape Ouma’s eyes. “And as for when _you_ have to look at them… I promise to always be nearby when that happens.”

It… wasn't much. It really wasn't much, but it still meant the world to Ouma. Momota, the person he loved, promising to support him whenever he was too scared to face the consequences of his own stupidity? What'd he ever do to deserve something like that? Why was everything so suspiciously good ever since he woke up? Was it good? Or was it just the calm before the storm? What if all this time Ouma was focusing on completely the wrong things and something he didn't expect ruined everything at this very moment? What if…

Countless thoughts ran through Ouma's mind without staying there long enough for him to properly analyze them, until all that was left was an unintelligible garbled mess of confusing emotions he could barely keep from spilling out. He was supposed to feel happy, right? To feel happy even though there was no way in hell he had any right to, right? Then… why was he so scared? Fear was the only thing among the chaos inside his head he could put a name to. He couldn't understand why, he couldn't understand how, he couldn't understand anything anymore… Why was it suddenly so hard for him to breathe?

It took Ouma a moment to realize that Momota was dragging him out of the dining room. As soon as the two were alone, he helped him sit down.

“Hey, you hear me?” he asked, concern clear on his face.

Ouma nodded.

“Okay. Okay, okay…” Momota muttered to himself, eyes frantically darting from side to side. He stayed silent for a moment, looking to be searching for a way to help. “Everything’s fine,” he finally said in a much more confident tone. “We’re alone, no one will see you. I’m right here. With you. The bad stuff’s over, no one is going to get hurt anymore.”

Stupid Momota, as if he could guarantee safety with a few choice words. Nothing was fine. Nothing at all. Something at some point went very wrong. Probably when Ouma didn’t die. Maybe when he founded DICE. Maybe when he was born. Yeah, that’s when everything went to shit…

“Kichi.”

Ouma hid his head in his hands, tugging at his hair and scratching his scalp. His mind clouded completely, leaving him with a simple animalistic urge to just scream his lungs out. But even that, however, was futile, as the only sounds that could escape his lips were raspy, desperate breaths and suppressed sobs.

“I’m coming closer, ‘kay? Don’t freak out.”

The already familiar feeling of Momota’s embrace surrounded Ouma, though it was much tighter than usual. “Just breathe, okay? Focus on that, don’t think about anything else.”

Weirdly enough, the pressure of Momota’s arms seemed to help. Or maybe that was because Ouma could now clearly feel the astronaut’s calm deep breaths, helping him almost subconsciously match his breathing to the astronaut’s. Bit by bit, his head was slowly clearing up.

“Better?” Momota asked.

“Yeah…”

He let out a sigh of relief. “I told you to let me know if you felt worse…”

“I’m fine.”

“Kichi. I know it might seem like it, but I’m not an idiot. You’re anything _but_ fine. And that’s okay, but you gotta accept that and stop bottling all that shit up.”

Ouma bit his lip. What was he even supposed to say to that?

“So, uh,” Momota continued. “Do those happen to you often?”

“What do you mean by ‘those’?”

“The panic attacks. Are they often?”

Ah. So that’s what that was.

“Wasn’t the first time,” Ouma answered.

“Gotcha. So I’ll be looking out for them as well from now on. In the meantime,” he picked Ouma up bridal style and stood up. “I think that was more than enough of stressing you out for now.”

Ouma couldn’t even protest against being carried around like that. He just put his arms around Momota’s neck and rested his head onto his shoulder as he let the astronaut walk them out the door.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. That was one hell of a block. Sorry it took so long. Hope you’re all still here.

For a few moments, Saihara stared silently at the door Momota and Ouma had just exited from, processing everything that had happened. He threw a quick questioning glance to Harukawa and stood up from his seat.

“Where do you think you're going?” she asked, giving the detective a cold look.

“Shouldn't we go help?”

“If Momota needed us, he wouldn't have dragged Ouma out of here in the first place. He’s got this.”

Still visibly unsure, Saihara sat back down. “Was that _our_ fault?” he asked.

“Doubt it. It probably would've happened anyway, that's how these things are.”

“I guess…” Saihara muttered. “It’s just… weird.”

“What is?”

“Seeing Ouma-kun like that. I mean… I guess I sort of picked up on it when I went to check up on him with Amami-kun, but still… He’s like a completely different person now.”

“He had to snap eventually,” Harukawa shrugged. “If anything, I’m surprised he could keep his act up through the killing game, all on his own like that.”

“No,” Saihara denied. “The bold, cheerful Ouma-kun that I knew wasn’t an act. Maybe he had to lie to himself for the sake of delaying a breakdown, but that’s it. He himself wasn’t fake.”

“You’re awfully confident about that.”

“A-ah, w-well, that’s because,” for a second Harukawa could swear she saw Saihara blushing. “I spent a lot of time with him, y-you know? Alone time. When he had no reason to lie. I’m not sure he _could_ lie in those moments… Anyway, back then, he was the same as he always was.”

Harukawa gave Saihara a suspecting look but decided to shrug it off. “Well, you’re more qualified to talk, I guess. I barely even knew the guy.”

From behind the closed door, she heard the barely audible sound of fading footsteps. “They’re gone,” she said, getting up from her seat and stretching her arms. “So, you got any plans? I’m bored.”

Saihara didn’t respond, face still painted with concern.

“He’ll be fine,” Harukawa insisted. “In time. I’m sure. He’s lucky to have someone so stubborn and determined to help looking after him.”

“…You’re okay with that?”

She sighed. She’d really hoped Saihara wouldn’t bring it up. “Yes. I am. What’d you think I’d say? I’ve been rejected. That’s it. What I feel is no one’s problem but my own. Certainly not Momota’s. He’s got enough on his plate already.”

Her mind couldn’t help but think back to the way Momota had been looking at Ouma. The way he lovingly stroked his face. The genuine soft and caring smile with which he tried to calm him down. Harukawa had never seen him act that way towards anyone else…

“I just want Momota to be happy, you know?” she said. “If he loves the brat, then so be it. Who am I to get in the way? I’ll get over it and try to support them however I can in the meantime.”

She ran her hand through her hair.

“Or, try to stay out of the way, at the very least.”

* * *

For a while, Momota simply spaced out, looking at the bedroom ceiling. Ouma sighed and shifted around for a bit, trying to get into a more comfortable position. The astronaut carefully ran his hand through the supreme leader’s hair, trying not to disturb him _too_ much. What was he supposed to do at the moment? Was he supposed to do anything at all? Ouma insisted that he was fine and that he wasn’t tired, but… that had to have been a lie. There was no way he wasn’t mentally drained after what he’d been through. Not just in the dining hall, but everything before that as well… Momota had even noticed him starting to doze off a few times, only to wake himself back up by covertly pinching his own arm.

“Hey,” Ouma said out of the blue. “Can we talk?”

Momota was somewhat relieved he didn’t have to start the conversation. “About what?” he asked.

“Don’t care. Anything.”

His exhausted monotone voice was almost painful to listen to.

“Like how you’re forcing yourself to stay up again?”

Ouma forced out a laugh. “So you noticed, huh?” he said, sitting up on the bed and inching a bit farther away. “I can’t even hide stuff from you anymore, can I?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Momota insisted. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, as if I’d believe that. Come on, man, don’t make me guess…” He stared blankly at the empty bedroom ceiling, trying to rationalize Ouma’s actions. “You think you’ll get nightmares again?” he finally settled on.

Silence.

“I’m here, though. And I’m not going anywhere. That usually helps, right?”

“They’ve been getting worse lately,” Ouma muttered.

Momota paused, unsure if prying further was a good idea. “Want to… tell me about them?”

Ouma hesitated for a bit, nervously chewing on his lip. “The worst one was… just the member that I killed, talking to me. Nothing else. I don’t know why it was so bad. I know that everything that he was saying was just my own thoughts, they didn’t even differ all that much from what I’m thinking when I’m awake…”

“Like what?”

Another long pause. “Just… thoughts, you know?”

Momota didn’t like the sound of that at all.

“Kichi,” he raised his voice ever so slightly.

“Just thoughts about… everything that happened.”

“Stop being so goddamn vague.”

“About all the… stupid things I’ve done.”

_“Kichi.”_

“About….” Ouma lowered his head so Momota couldn’t see his face. “About how much I hate myself,” his voice trembled slightly, “and how I can’t do anything right, _ever,_ and how I’m a pathetic, selfish, horrible human being, and how I can’t understand how or _why_ you even bother to put up with me, when all I ever do is ruin everything for _everyone,_ and then try to pretend that it somehow wasn’t my fault.

“I don’t get it. I don’t get it and I hate it. I hate everything about this. I hate that I’m telling you this right now, but I can’t stop, because I never know when to _shut the fuck up._ Except I do. I’m aware of every single terrible idea that I get, but I just… _ignore_ the fact that I’m aware of that. Pretend like I’m an idiot who can’t foresee the consequences of his own stupidity. Like that’s supposed to somehow make things better. I’m… consciously making myself miserable because _I don’t fucking know._ But one thing for sure, all that shit makes me hate myself even more. I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it–”

Momota inched closer. He wasn’t expecting to get this much out of the usually tight-lipped Ouma, but… this was good. He had to let all of his frustration out, no matter how wrong, illogical or ugly it was. He’d feel better afterward. Hopefully.

“And you know what? When things somehow _do_ get better, they actually get worse. Because… I didn't have anything to lose when I was alone. I've long since lost DICE, everyone else either hated me or didn't give a fuck, and I couldn't even be useful outside of the killing game. When you know that you can just… stay out of everyone's way forever and nothing would change… it's somewhat comforting, you know? At least, it was. But you just had to show up and remind me what human contact felt like. _You._ Of all people. As if to rub in how huge of a fuck-up I am. And now I can’t end it all no matter how hard I try, both because I know you’d feel bad and because _I don’t want to._ I can’t even tell if I’m glad that I survived. I don’t know anything anymore.”

…Okay, it was probably about time Momota tried to comfort him. This was starting to get out of control. Trying not to make any sharp movements, the astronaut hugged Ouma from behind. The smaller boy turned around to return the embrace and rest his head on Momota’s chest.

“…You know how I said that I _never_ hated you?” he almost whispered after a short pause. “That was a lie, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“It wasn’t really hate, more like… envy, I guess. Still, you pissed me off to no end back in the game.”

“Wait, what… are you even talking about? What did you have to be envious of?”

“Ohhh, I dunno,” judging by his sarcastic tone, Ouma was probably rolling his eyes. “You were only constantly showing me what a good leader was _actually_ like. No big deal. That didn’t wreck my self-esteem at all.”

“I’m… sorry?” What was he even supposed to say to that?

Ouma sighed. “It’s fine. I know it’s dumb to think of it like that, it’s just… All this ‘Ultimate Supreme Leader’ crap… it’s like they were mocking me.”

“The titles were from Hope’s Peak, right? I’m sure they meant it.”

“An ‘Ultimate Supreme Leader’ wouldn’t murder his own member. Especially not when killing is the only thing against the rules.”

“Everybody makes mistakes–”

“Momota-chan. I killed my beloved. That is not a ‘mistake’, that is much worse. Don’t give me that crap.”

Silence had filled the bedroom, giving Momota some time to think. Him, a better leader than Ouma? The whole idea just felt… backward. He didn’t even do anything that special. Ouma was the one who formed a secret organization at such a young age. He was the one who escaped the Holy Salvation _with_ said organization. He was the one who cared for it and protected it for years.

But that wasn’t how Ouma saw it. To him, Momota was somehow better. It was probably pointless to try to understand how. Instead, perhaps it was time to do what Momota had put off for far too long already.

“Kichi. From now on, you’re my sidekick.”

For a split second, Ouma’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “H... _Huh?”_ he asked.

“You’re my sidekick,” Momota repeated. _“My_ leadership is now _your_ leadership. If you think that I’m such a good leader, then that means that you are one, too.”

“I… don’t think that’s how it works.”

“And,” Momota continued as he took the carefully folded checkered scarf out of his pocket, “I don’t care what you think, you’re still great even on your own. Not as great as me, obviously, but still. Having you as a leader would be an honor. So,” he put the scarf around his neck. “I’m also joining DICE, whether you like it or not.”

Ouma averted his eyes. “…DICE is gone.”

“Not if I’m here.”

“You do realize that all of this is meaningless, right?”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“You’re just deluding yourself at this point…”

“Kichi. You’re smiling.”

Ouma immediately covered his mouth with his hand. A hint of a blush appeared on his cheeks.

“You’ve wanted this, right?” Momota asked. “Don’t think I forgot.”

“So what? We’ll be each other’s underlings from now on? This is stupid…”

“Hell yeah, it is!” Momota grinned. “But who cares if it’s stupid? It’s our thing, we can do whatever we want.”

Ouma looked almost convinced. All that was needed was one final push.

“Stupid is what you get for falling for a dumbass.”

“Fine, fine,” Ouma chuckled quietly. Momota’s never been happier to hear that laugh. “Can’t argue with that.”

The astronaut ran his fingers through his lover’s hair. When his face wasn’t darkened by worry or sorrow, Ouma was… so irresistibly beautiful. Momota leaned forward and gave him a kiss. To astronaut’s delight, Ouma seemed to be a lot less tense this time around.

Somehow, this felt… final. As if the worst has been put behind them, and this was a beginning of something new. Something… much better than what they’ve been through so far. Could the two of them finally live together happily, without ever looking back?

…No, there was still something left. Something that perhaps, Momota wished they could just sweep under the rug and forget about.

“You never really told me what happened between you and your beloved,” he finally said.

Ouma sighed. “Didn't you figure out the general gist on your own? What else do you want?”

Momota intertwined his fingers with Ouma's. “Well, you wouldn't just kill someone you loved randomly, right? And you also said something about some other group, they don't really fit into everything else…”

“The locals, yeah…” he paused for a few moments, thinking something to himself. 

“Have you seen my motive video? The one with DICE?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“I… didn't. I just know what's in it.”

“So you haven't… Well, whatever,” Ouma shrugged. “There's this girl, Mae-chan. Our youngest. The shy and quiet type, y'know?”

Momota nodded.

“Except underneath all that, she was tough as all hell… Always calm and collected, could stand up for herself when she needed to… She saw me fight a handful of times, yet I'm pretty sure she picked up on a few moves just from that…”

“Uh-huh…” Momota muttered, still unsure of where Ouma was going with this.

“So, uh… It was a rough time for DICE, so she and my beloved went behind my back and tried to… _improve_ our situation a bit.”

“Improve?”

“M-hm. My beloved–” Ouma stopped in the middle of the thought. “Shio,” he muttered underneath his breath, more to himself than to anyone else. “Just call him Shio…” He cleared his throat, going back to his usual speaking voice. “Shio-chan wanted to earn the locals’ trust by acting as if he betrayed DICE and wanted to join them, and then… rob them, essentially. He told Mae-chan, she agreed to help. They kept me in the dark through all of this because they knew I’d be against the whole endeavor and stop them. Guess they were just so convinced that the plan was going to work.”

Another small, hesitant pause. “Well, it didn’t. I stumbled upon them in the middle of it. They’d already ‘switched sides’ by then, supposedly. He didn’t want to explain anything to me out of fear that the locals would find out that their traitors act was all fake. So instead… that fucking idiot…” His words dissolved into a barely-intelligible mess. 

“H-hey, Kichi, you can stop, I’m sorry I brought it up–”

Ouma shook his head, determined to go on. “He was so sure I’d trust him no matter what, so he… acted as if he was going to cut Mae-chan if I didn’t go away.”

It took Momota a moment to fully comprehend what Ouma was saying. This Shio person… _threatened_ Ouma? Using someone else as a hostage? _He_ was the reason why Ouma felt so miserable all this time? Why he’s been so afraid of himself when everything’s been Shio’s goddamn fault? The bastard had it coming, why Ouma ever liked him was far beyond Momota’s understanding, but–

“Momota-chan,” Ouma interrupted his thoughts, “Shio-chan wasn’t a bad person.” He must’ve noticed Momota’s anger. “He was trying to help. He just… chose the worst possible way to do it. Both of us were at fault, I think… I don’t blame him, though. What I did was way worse.” He paused. “Do you think he would've wanted me to move on? Or is that just wishful thinking?”

“I–”

“But then again,” Ouma continued without letting Momota say a word, “even if he would have, if he saw me now then he'd just be disappointed by my desperate attempts to replace him.”

“What… are you even talking about? You’re not trying to replace anyone.”

“No, I tried,” Ouma sighed. “Multiple times. Tried it with you, too.” He pulled back and looked at Momota– no, rather, at something behind him. “Except it didn’t work with you. Not even a little.” 

He leaned on Momota’s shoulder, reached behind his head and untied his hair. “I like it better this way,” Ouma smiled.

“You’re the one who said it looked bad in the first place.”

“I lied,” he shrugged, smile still present on his face. A smile that was neither fake nor forced; the very rare kind that Momota missed so much.

* * *

“There!” Angie bounced excitedly in place, pointing to the horizon. “I see it!”

Indeed, far in the distance, somewhat obscured by the ocean mist, silhouettes of small mountains had finally appeared. The Jabberwock Island.

As everybody began enthusiastically talking over each other, Ouma still couldn’t ease the unnerving heavy feeling in his chest. This… was it, right? His supposed ‘new life’? He didn’t think he’d actually get to see it. It was never his intention. This… felt wrong. Like he wasn’t supposed to be here.

He tugged on the collar of Momota’s jacket he was wearing over his shoulders and took a deep breath. It was fine. Everything was going to be fine. He had no doubts that living on was going to be hard and confusing, but he was willing to try, at least. 

Ouma stepped closer to Momota and held his hand.

As long as he had someone to rely on, the future couldn’t be all that bad.


	38. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **!!!**   
>  **In case you missed it, this is a double upload. Check out chapter 37 first.**   
>  **!!!**

98, 99, 100.

As soon as Ouma lifted his body above the ground one last time, his eyes darted to his left only to see Harukawa already sitting on the sand in a relaxed position.

“Too slow. I win again,” she stated with a smug smirk on her face.

“Whatever,” Ouma yawned. “You're probably cheating anyway. It's not like anyone here is keeping tabs on how many push-ups any of us did.”

“I am!” Momota cut in, despite the fact that it was obvious he spent the whole time lying down and staring up into the night sky.

“Sure you are,” Harukawa sighed. “Ouma. I'm not tired yet, want to spar for a bit?”

“Nah,” he replied, already settling down on the still warm sand next to Momota. “Maybe next time.”

For a moment Harukawa looked almost disappointed.

“You should've hung out with Sonia-chan and the guys too,” Ouma grinned, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Since you have energy to spare.”

“No thanks. I'm not really interested in running around shouting nonsense all day.” She stood up and brushed the sand off her skirt. “In that case, I think I’m gonna head back. Tsumiki’s been scolding me for always coming back so late.”

“Oh? Should we move the training to mornings or something?” Momota asked.

“I refuse,” Ouma immediately cut off in a drowsy voice, already half-asleep.

“Dude,” the astronaut nudged him lightly with his shoulder, “wait ‘til we get back. It’s like, a ten-minute walk.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Do you want me to wake you up? Because I _will_ wake you up,” Momota playfully nuzzled Ouma’s bare neck, making him instinctively giggle and squirm away.

“Get a room, you two,” Saihara said, breathing heavily, only now finishing with his push-ups.

“Oh, _we will._ Right after he stops falling asleep on me and walks to the hotel.”

_“Or,”_ Ouma smirked, “you could carry me all the way back as a punishment for slacking off. Get your workout that way.”

“Kichi…”

“Pretty please? Kaito, my love?”

Momota groaned in annoyance. “…Fine.”

“Nishishi,” Ouma smirked, looking almost proud of himself. He wrapped his arms behind the astronaut’s neck and gave him a kiss.

“Ah, I didn’t think anybody would be here...” the unexpected soft voice coming from behind the training squad made everyone jump slightly in surprise. “Are we interrupting?” Komaeda asked, walking up closer, Hinata following shortly after.

“We were about to leave,” Harukawa said, messing with one of her twin tails as per usual. “What are you two doing here so late?”

“Just felt nostalgic, I guess?” Komaeda smiled.

“The hotel’s too noisy right now anyway,” Hinata added.

“Nostalgic?” Saihara asked.

“M-hm. This is the beach where Hajime and I first met, you see. Holds memories. I wanted to come visit it before the mission.”

“Komaeda-chan, that's gay,” Ouma muttered, closing his eyes and snuggling up even closer to Momota.

“You’re leaving tomorrow, right?” the astronaut asked, ignoring his boyfriend’s remark.

Hinata nodded. “It’s just some remnants this time. Shouldn’t take long, might even be back the same day if the luck works out.”

“I’m surprised the remnants are still around,” Komaeda said. “It’s been so long.”

“Well, they’ve been a lot easier to deal with this past year, now that the Foundation has an ex-remnant with intact memories of how they work.” 

“Well, good luck with that,” Momota smiled and stood up, holding Ouma in his arms.

“Ah, before you go,” Hinata added, “Naegi and the rest will visit soon, can you guys start the preparations tomorrow? I’d ask someone else, but they’re all busy wrecking the hotel.”

“Sure, no problem. Are they all coming?”

“The usual eight, yeah.”

“Will do. G’night.”

They said their goodbyes and headed home, to the hotel. Even though it was a decent walk away, Ouma could already hear the familiar rhythmic pounds of the music being blasted from the restaurant. Not that the noise bothered Ouma in the slightest, though – he’s long since used to it by now.

Speaking of getting used to, it was almost weird how fast he got accustomed to living on the island. Everyone’s been so… nice, and friendly, and everything had this strange, laid back, feel-good tone to it… Was this how a ‘normal life’ was supposed to be? Fun, surrounded by friends, free of any sort of stress or danger?

Weirdest of all, Ouma actually felt like he belonged. He never would’ve thought he’d get to feel like that again. Not after DICE was gone… though, Momota wholeheartedly believed that they were still somewhere out there. So much so that Ouma couldn’t help but stop thinking of the idea being _completely_ unthinkable. They always were good at hiding, after all… Maybe, just maybe, they’d come out after the Despair’s been dealt with for good. Ouma didn’t know what he’d do then. He didn’t bother to think that far.

…All his past worries seemed so insignificant now.

Through only half-opened eyes, Ouma looked down at his left arm, still covered in noticeable scars. A reminder – of the days when he was at his lowest, the days that he wouldn’t have survived on his own – forever carved onto his skin. What… was he even so afraid of? He’s already forgotten what his past self’s backward thoughts were. It was probably a good thing that he has.

The music has gotten considerably louder – they must’ve been at the hotel already. A sound of the bridge paths quietly creaking under the group’s weight, a couple of ‘good nights’ to the two other sidekicks, and finally, the thud of a closing cottage door.

The warmth of astronaut’s embrace got replaced by the familiar softness of their bed. A kiss on the lips – Momota’s gotten quite good at them after a while. Ouma latched onto the collar of his boyfriend’s shirt, not wanting to let go just yet.

“Hey, Kaito?” Ouma asked after finally pulling away from the kiss.

“Yeah?”

“…Thanks.”

Momota chuckled. “For what?”

“For, y’know… stuff…”

“Yeah, yeah,” the astronaut playfully ruffled Ouma’s hair. “I’ll go take a shower,” he said, getting up. “Be right back.”

“Ah, Kaito–” Ouma called out, sitting up on the bed.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“I know,” Momota grinned. “Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh… It’s done. I didn’t expect that, honestly. I thought I’d just write a few chapters, get like 20 hits with no comments, give up, and that would be it. I’m glad I’ve been proven wrong. Thank you all for your support <3 
> 
> There are,,, _so many_ things I wish I could’ve handled better, but overall, I’m happy with how this turned out, especially for my first attempt at writing. Good learning experience. I’ll do better next time, I promise.
> 
> Speaking of the next time, I’m already working on a new thing. Multiple things, actually. Though, it might take a while before I post any of them. Guess what I’m trying to say, keep an eye out, if you’re interested.
> 
> Huge thanks to:
> 
> •ReserveCourseWriter/EmerExists for being the best beta I could’ve asked for
> 
> •Best wife Tem for listening to my ramblings and helping out with the fluffy scenes I couldn’t write if my life depended on it
> 
> •かちわり on nicodouga for making an amv that made me so fucking sad I started writing for the first time since I was like seven
> 
> •Kaido Sasaki for reuploading it to youtube where I first saw it
> 
> •Kodaka for destroying my life
> 
> •An unnamed anon for predicting the whole ‘Ouma killed the 11th member’ thing way too fucking early
> 
> •Theholylight, Lilithium, SurrealSupernaturalist, TrashyExistence, StarReads, Soap_Deluxe, Ourhappygirl500, weepingcherry, RWBYpro, Penguinion, Fish_Wwith_Flair, LilPanta, Yogurt_Tea, prowlstwinkass, thorupmoa, Kira, Serendipital, Arknes, PsiFie, Missmay123p, SHSL Fandom Trash, Turtlebish, BeWitched, and DawningFlower for being especially awesome


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